


Book One: Crowe Legacy: Defining Moment

by WichitaRed



Category: Personal Piece - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 90
Words: 184,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24144682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: This is not a fandom/fanfic but a personal piece of fiction created by Wichita RedCrowe Legacy: Defining Moment"History is written by the victors." --Walter BenjaminThe American Civil War began in the West in 1854, and historians have labeled this event as Bleeding Kansas, but what of Missouri?The Crowe Family of Harrisonville, Missouri, is known for the horses they breed and their unique personalities. Each member being intriguing as they are imperfect. But at last, they are coming together, healing, and growing beyond their flaws. Their journey will take you from the green hills of Missouri to the green cobblestones of the French Quarter as the summer of 1859 changes their lives forever.Lafayette Crowe, the middle son, is perched on the edge of manhood. Yet, the disintegrating peace between Kansas and Missouri is creating a twisted blade of fate that will force Lafayette and those around him, down a road they should never have taken.Crowe Legacy follows a family's living within a regional war, as their County is moving toward National Civil War.This has been I believe what is cliche called a 'labor of love' and any feedback is welcome
Comments: 162





	1. Character List

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a fandom but a personal piece of fiction created by Wichita Red  
> This has been I believe what is cliche called a 'labor of love' and any feedback is welcome

Character List

** The Crowes of Sienna, Harrisonville, Missouri **

Antonio Thomas Crowe (Father)

Archibald "Archie" Simpson Waverly (Katharine Crowe's, deceased husband)

Benjamin (Sienna stable slave)

Eudora "Dora" Gena Lorraine Crowe (3rd living daughter of Antonio & Gena Lorraine, Thaddeus' Twin)

Gabriel "Gabe" Matthew Antonio Maximillian Crowe (1st born son of Antonio & Gena Lorraine)

Gena Lorraine Begnoir-Bueford Crowe (deceased Mother)

George (elderly Sienna House Slave)

Joe (Sienna field slave)

Josephine "Josie/Jo" Michelle Antoinette Crowe (2nd living daughter of Antonio & Gena Lorraine)

Katharine Lorraine Abigail Crowe-Waverly (1st born daughter of Antonio & Gena Lorraine)

Lafayette "Lafe" Henri Begnoir Crowe (2nd living Son of Antonio & Gena Lorraine)

Louisa (Sienna house slave)

Marcus (Sienna stable slave)

Marie (Sienna house slave)

Margie (Sienna house slave and lady's maidservant)

Michaël "Mikey" Archibald Waverly (Katharine Crowe's son)

Peter Crowe (Free Man of Color, Overseer of Sienna, Head horse trainer)

Simone "Mams" Bueford (Free Woman of Color, Head House Servant, Nanny)

Thaddeus "Taddy/Tad" Robert Crowe (3rd living Son of Antonio & Gena Lorraine, Eudora's Twin)

Webster "Web" Eugene Bueford (free man of color, Simone's Son)

William (Sienna field slave)

** Horses of the Crowe Stable **

Appalachian Blue "Cain" (Stallion, Thaddeus' horse)

Artorius Red (Gelding, Gabriel's horse)

Blood of Midas "Gus" (Stallion)

Boreas Red (all-around racetrack champion, top sire of Crowe line)

Boreas' Silver Angel "Nelly" (Mare, Josephine's horse)

Clíodhna of Sienna "Clio" (Bell Mare/ Broodmare)

Copper Belle (Broodmare)

Connagáin Aillte "Coffee" (Gelding, Lafayette's horse)

Demetrius (Stallion)

Erebos Wind "Ebby" (Gelding, Grandson of Boreas, gifted to Fox Northrup)

Gaoithe Stoirm "Storm" (Pregnant mare sold to Banker Knowles of Independence)

Hannibal (Stallion)

Jefferson (Gelding)

Leontes (Stallion)

Louie's Gamble (Gelding)

Maia Danseur (Mare, gifted to Clyde Massey)

Malcolm Red (Gelding)

Marquis Sapphire (Gelding)

Osage Blue Mist (Gelding, Michaël's horse)

Saffron Raze (mare)

Tears of Ophelia (Mare)

Vashti Red "Vash" (mare)

** Missouri Neighbors **

Albert Minters (Partisan Ranger)

Baker (Partisan Ranger)

Broderick "Brody" Johnson (State Guard, Partisan Ranger, Gabriel Crowe's closest friend)

Captain Randolph Kinney (commercial Riverboat Captain)

Celia Anne Sheldon (from Lafayette County, Missouri visiting Younger family)

Charlie (Baker family's elderly, protective House Slave)

Clarence "Fox" Northrup (State Guard, Partisan Ranger, Thaddeus Crowe's closest friend)

Clyde Massey (State Guard, Partisan Ranger, Sienna bordering neighbor, JT's Cousin)

Colonel Octavius Barnett

Deputy James Manning (Harrisonville)

Doctor Mathews

Eli (Ericksen Family hired man)

Elizabeth "Betsy" Baker (Hannah Baker's eldest daughter)

Elizabeth Barnett (Octavius's only daughter)

Emma Stark (wife of George, farm attacked by Jayhawkers)

Frank Manning

Gideon "Gid" Barnett (State Guard, Partisan Ranger)

George Stark (husband of Emma, farm attacked by Jayhawkers)

Hannah Baker

Harold "Harry" Stark (son of Emma & George, farm attacked by Jayhawkers)

Jackson Arthur Ericksen (Partisan Ranger, Doctor, Sienna bordering neighbor, Lafayette Crowe's closest friend)

Jeremiah Burke (Home in Bates County burned by Captain Birmingham)

James "Jimmy" Gamble (State Guard, Partisan Ranger, Grandson of a local dairy farmer)

Jeb Stark (son of Emma & George, farm attacked by Jayhawkers)

John Thomas "JT" Massey (Partisan Ranger, Sienna bordering neighbor, Clyde's cousin)

Josh (the boy who was a lookout for Antonio Crowe in Independence, Missouri)

Major Samuel Birmingham (Missouri Home Guard)

Marcus "Marc" Stark (son of Emma & George, farm attacked by Jayhawkers)

McIntosh Family (run a house of ill repute)

Micah Stephens (Partisan Ranger)

Mitchell Seaborne (joined Sterling Price CSA ranks)

Nathaniel Davis (Partisan Ranger, son of a Baptist Minister in Pleasant Hill, Cass County, Missouri)

Orville Riggs (State Guard, Partisan Ranger)

Otto (boatman)

Rance McGreen (State Guard, Partisan Ranger)

Reed Chaplin (Son of Little Dipper Saloon Owner, Partisan Ranger)

Richard "Dick" Younger (eldest son of Mayor of Harrisonville, brother to Cole Younger)

Thomas Coleman "Cole" Younger (son of Mayor of Harrisonville, later a CSA Partisan Ranger)

Thomas Willer (Owner, Willer's Emporium, Harrisonville)

Thomas Knowles (Independence Banker, owner of Crowe's Gaoithe Stoirm)

Samuel Stark (son of Emma & George, farm attacked by Jayhawkers)

Sheriff Matthew Hart (Harrisonville)

Silas "Cy" Gordon (Partisan Ranger Captain)

Skye Naylor (from Charleston, South Carolina, visiting Sawyer cousins of Clay County, Missouri)

Suzanne Reynolds (Clay County, Missouri, fiancée of William Adler)

Valentine McCain (State Guard, Partisan Ranger)

William Adler (son of the wealthiest families in Jackson County, Missouri)

William Clayton (Partisan Ranger)

William "Will" Dubbs (boatman)

William "Bill" Masters

William "Will" Stark (son of Emma & George, farm attacked by Jayhawkers)

** Militia **

Home Guard - Missouri Unionist Civilians & Soldiers were known to team up with Jayhawkers

Jayhawkers - Kansas Unionist Abolitionist Raiders/Defenders

State Guard - Missouri Southern Civilians & Soldiers\

Partisan Rangers - Missouri Southern Raiders/Defenders

****

** Kansans & Jayhawkers/Union Militia **

Captain Birmingham

Doctor John Doy (abolitionist known to raid/hunt with John Brown)

Doc Jennison (Jayhawk leader and Union Army Officer)

Jim Lane (Kansas Senator and Jayhawker)

Lieutenant Sean O'Rourke (Federal Solider)

** Vieux Carré, New Orleans, Louisiana **

Andre Michon (Freemen-of Color, Horse handlers hired at L'Eau Sucree)

Beaumont (slave at L'Eau Sucree)

Connor Shelley (Boxer and dockworker, Lafayette Crowe's closest friend in New Orleans)

Doctor George Belfew (New Orleans Doctor)

Father Croix (head Cure or Father at the Saint Louis Cathedral, New Orleans)

George Burgess (Jonathon Burgess Father)

Jacque (slave at L'Eau Sucree)

Jean LaBeau (poker player, Red Crescent Saloon, New Orleans)

Jonathon "Jon" Burgess (Josephine Crowe's fiancé, Lafayette's friend)

Julien Marrec (Freemen-of Color, Horse handlers hired at L'Eau Sucree)

Lafayette Henri & Genève Begnoir (Crowe Siblings Great-Grandparents)

Lorraine Genevieve Begnoir-Bueford (Crowe siblings Grandmother)

Louis Lafayette Begnoir (Lorraine G.'s deceased brother, husband to Blanch, Fay's Father)

Maeve (Irish Servant at Lorraine G. Begnoir-Bueford's rue de Royal house, New Orleans)

Michaël Robert Bueford (Lorraine G. Begnoir-Bueford's Deceased husband)

Mitchum (poker player, Red Crescent Saloon, New Orleans)

Odette Begnoir (Lorraine Genevieve's servant)

Patrick (Irish servant boy at Lorraine G. Begnoir-Bueford's rue de Royal house, New Orleans)

Reilly (poker player, Red Crescent Saloon, New Orleans)

Roland Rasier (Freemen-of Color, Horse handlers hired at L'Eau Sucree)

Taddea Nicoloine (Lorraine Genevieve Begnoir-Bueford's deceased Grandmother)

Thomas Alvert (poker player, Red Crescent Saloon, New Orleans)

Violet (house slave at L'Eau Sucree)


	2. Prologue

Prologue

August 1859 - Cass County, Missouri

“That is the last one,” he said, removing his hat and wiping sweat from his face.

The second laborer stepped back with a groan. His boots sloshed in the mud they had created, cooling the metal tire to the wagon wheel. “Thank goodness, my stomach’s startin’ to think, I up and forgotten it altogether.”

The first, who had broad shoulders of one raised on hard labor, released a huffing laugh. “Hells bells, Lucian, way ya go on ‘bouts food, I would find it hard to believe ya is not hungry, the moment, ya get up from the table.”

“Ya, keep on so and, Otto. . .” Lucian's cheeks rose up full and round, displaying his overbite smile. “I will convince Ma, ya been spoutin’ off ‘bouts her cooking.”

“Best not.”

“Yup, tell ’er ya been bad mouthin’ it, and then I can eat ya share, too.”

Kicking muddy water at his brother, Otto shouted, “Ya will do no such thing.” A satisfied glow lit Otto’s eyes as he took in the three wagon wheels stacked by their shop that stood on the edge of their family land, nearest a road frequently traveled by movers. “Money these will bring, I figure on purchasin’ a third dairy cow, winter shoes for the girls, and tuck some back for rainy days.”

“Way ya squirrel coins away, ya ’d think the great flood is gonna return.”

“And if’n ya had ya way, suppose ya would head for a good time in Harrisonville.”

“Ya bet, I would.”

Ignoring his little brother, Otto watched the fireflies flickering about the apple orchard, as spending hard-earned profits wastefully was an ongoing debate he did not feel like having. “Come on; Ma will be frettin’ about us.”

As they walked, the evening’s purple light settled about them, so much so that when they emerged from the apple orchard, the long shadow their two-story home had stretched across the lawn was already beginning to dwindle into darkness.

“Lucian,” Otto hissed, his deep-set eyes narrowing at the collection of men standing near their mother’s rose bush. Counting them, he thought, ‘only six horses for fifteen . . . that is odd.’

When the men turned, he saw they carried Sharps rifles, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose up, all thick and stiff.

“Who can they all be at this time?” Lucian asked, and then his arm darted out toward three men bunched together. “Is one of them, Jim Pritcher?”

“Appears to be.”

Before more could be said, the strangers raised their rifles' open bores toward the brothers, a thin, narrow-faced man spurring his bay horse within talking distance. “Who are you?”

“One would think a man would be more hospitable at another’s home,” Otto replied, stepping in front of his brother. “This here is my land; I am Otto Huebert. My brother. . .” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “and I are wheelwrights. Are ya here, ‘cause ya are needin’ some repairs, Mr. Jennison?”

The rider’s eyes narrowed, “How is it; you know me?”

“A friend pointed ya out when I was makin’ a delivery in Sugar Mound.”

Nodding toward the house, Jennison asked, “Who is inside?”

“Ya have not answered my own question.”

Two of the strangers stepped forward, levering back the hammers of their rifles.

“Mr. Huebert, you are not in the position to be demanding.”

Inhaling, Otto replied, “Our mother and three sisters.”

Jennison grunted.

A swirling breeze rustled the leaves, and gooseflesh spread down Otto’s arms, despite the August heat. It was not the wind, raising the chill, but the recollection of his conversation with Dick Mitchell while in Sugar Mound.

‘You see that man.’ Dick Mitchell had whispered, ‘his pals call ’em Doc, but his real name is Charles Jennison, and he brags over his close friendship with that zealot, John Brown. Yesterday evenin’, I had me the pleasure of hearin’ Jennison and his pal, Montgomery preaches ‘bouts the Lord, himself, forgivin’ any and all transgressions made in the name of abolitionism. ‘Specially, if’n it is done to rid the world of slave owners, as the Lord agrees they are unrequited examples of evil.’

Otto remembered how he shook his head, brushing off what his friend was saying. However, Mitchell had gone on, and now his words held a distinct note of terror, under these circumstances. ‘You be takin’ yourself a good look at ’em, so you will know ‘em. ‘Cause, he is indiscriminate when he leads a foray. I seen the loot they bring back to sell at auction. He and his like are no good; they take too damn much pleasure in the profits of plunder, burning homes, and being the judge and jury of a man’s guilt.’

Otto’s blue eyes slid across the men, so many men, and he determined his only course of action was to remain cordial. Taking a breath, he shoved his fisted hands in pockets.

Jennison, who had been studying them just as intently, asked, “Is the pair of you armed?”

Lucian replied, using a sarcastic tone, which so often got him in trouble, “We have been workin’ in our shop all day. Why the hell should we be armed?”

Jennison kneed his horse closer, and the animal’s warm breath drafted across the brothers. “Are there weapons in the house?”

“We are not soldiers, so we do not necessarily have weapons,” Otto answered, elbowing his brother back. “Yet, like everyone, we keep muskets on hand for huntin’.”

Jennison’s heavy-lidded eyes blinked at the Huebert brothers. The weighty silence in the yard grew taut, stringing out Otto’s nerves until he thought he might break.

“You are now our prisoners!” Jennison said, the steel of his tone matching the hardness of his expression. “Men to the house.”

“What the hell gives ya—”

“Hush!” Otto ordered, spinning on his brother and hissing, “Do not anger them.”

Grudgingly, the brothers’ allowed themselves to be herded to their front door. As they walked, the rifles tracking them set up a terrible itch in the middle of Otto’s back.

Having trampled his horse through the flowerbeds, Jennison dismounted at the front door beside Otto.

Looking down at the shorter man, Otto asked, “Why are ya here? What do ya require?”

Doc Jennison smiled; it was thin and cold, “For you to lead us inside.”

Worrying at his lower lip, Otto looked to his brother, driven to stand with the other prisoners, and back to Jennison. The man’s indifferent face made Otto’s blood run cold. Inhaling deep, he turned the doorknob, thinking ‘perhaps, if’n I play along, all will be fine.’ Except, as the trespassers followed him across the threshold of the home, the one he had helped his father build, he felt like Judas.

It was dark inside. Perplexed, Otto wondered, ‘why has Ma not lit the lamps?’ However, even as he thought this, he caught the acrid whiff of smoke. ‘She doused ’em. Supposin’, I could use my knowledge of the room to turn the tables on these men. But, they hold Lucian at the whims of their mercy.’

Abruptly, the room leapt to life at the striking of a match, and in the far corner stood Abigail Huebert, guarding her daughters. The flame was set to the candle on the kitchen table by a red-bearded man. He wore a sneer, which advertised him as a bully, right down to the center of his core. Leering at each Huebert, he went around lighting the lamps.

The light was harsh after such thick darkness, and its arrival revealed the room's conflicted emotions. Each face personified either fear or power. Surveying the eight-armed men, Otto knew unequivocally, none of the power belonged to him.

Jennison’s inflection was so polite; it sounded as if he might have been requesting directions to the local church when he asked, “Where are the firearms, Mr. Huebert?”

“Upstairs.”

The red-bearded man shoved Otto, “lead us.”

Six men followed her son, and Abigail Huebert’s upturned eyes tracked the clumping boots above her head, her face drawing tight at the clamor of their search. When a horrendous shatter rang out, overriding all other sounds, she shuddered, knowing it to be the full-length mirror her husband had gifted her.

Unable to remain as she was, the oldest daughter bolted from the corner, intent on scolding the men.

“Ivy, no!”

Ivy halted, turning slowly to her mother, “Ma, this is our home.”

Being older and knowing how wicked a group of men can be, Abigail walked forward, gathering her daughter in a tight hug.

Out in the black night, Lucian watched the lights go up the stairs, following their progress through the rooms, his hackles rose at the sounds of destruction, and he headed for the door.

A rifle swung his way, the man at the other end snarling, “Move back, Puke, or your next step will be your last.”

Returning to the prisoners, Lucian discovered them be Jim Pritcher, Martin Cave, and Kennedy Morgan; he stared at the cowed trio, wondering if he appeared the same. Not wanting to be, he brashly asked, “Tell me, why the hell are we prisoners, in the first damn place?”

Not one of Jennison’s men responded.

“Is y’all deaf? I asked ya a question?”

Kennedy Morgan stepped close, “Do not be pushin’ em, boy; one of ‘em near about broke Martin’s jaw when he did.”

Lucian looked hard at the older, balding man, “But, why?”

“What we know is…” Morgan nodded at the armed men, “they believe us to have assisted a Vigilance Committee in the hunt and seizure of an escaped slave. Each of us has told ‘em, we had no part in the Committee they are speakin’ of. However, Jennison refuses to hear our words.”

Lucian licked his lower lip, “what they plannin’ on doin’ with us?”

Jim Pritcher looked up, forlornly, “we ain’t been enlightened.”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Lucian said, “well, whatever they think, they have got us all wrong. Hell, all Otto ever has us doin’ is laborin’ away in the shop.”

Inside the house, not a word of enlightenment had been given to the ladies either. But, when Otto returned to the family common room, followed again by the raiders, Abigail released a pent-up breath.

One raider brought down three muskets, the black powder hunting horn, and the satchel of lead shot slung over his shoulder. The rest had their arms full of tediously made quilts, along with pillowcases that bulged with household goods. The last down carried a carpet bag, and before he closed it, Abigail saw it held her Mother’s silver vanity set.

At the sight of this cherished keepsake, she found her voice, “Ya have no right to thieve from us.”

Scowling at her, Doc Jennison asked, “Where are your niggers?”

She stepped up to him, her head held high, “We have never owned negros.”

He sniffed, turning on Otto, “Were you not part of Daniel McCall’s crew who ran a negro down, who only wished his freedom?” Giving no time for a response, Jennison continued, his voice rising to a roar and his face growing flush. “It is against our rules and the rules of the Lord for anyone, absolutely anyone, to obstruct a negro intent to be free. Slavery is an ultimate abomination! Runaway slaves must be assisted and thusly, myself, and my men, intend to free every negro in Missouri!”

Snagging one of the muskets, Jennison removed its bayonet, and with a cold smile, he flipped the bayonet in the air. The dark metal glinting in the lamplight as he caught it, jabbing the tip against Otto’s chest. “A bayonet such as this is a weapon. It can be used in many ways to do away with a man, some slow and some fast. I asked if you had weapons, and yet, you failed to speak truthfully.”

Otto stared wide-eyed, down his nose at the blade tip, balanced against his chest.

“For example,” Jennison’s smile grew colder, “you could simply stab a man with it or use the keen edge to slice his throat.”

The room grew so still, each person’s breathing could be heard.

“Then there is the slow death; a sliced wrist or, perhaps, a groin artery.” Saying this, he struck out with the blade.

Abigail screamed, as did her daughters.

Otto jumped back, bumping against the men behind him, the blade slicing along the fabric of his clothes.

Doc Jennison’s laughter filled the house, and he barked, “Outside.”

Exiting last, Jennison barged through the ladies, stalking over to Otto, his bitter cigar breath filling the space between them. “Let us see if you can answer truthfully this time and remember; Our Lord is listening. Have you ridden with men, the likes of which, have been known to restrain negros?”

“Ya should know, neither my family nor I deem slavery as a Christian act,” Otto responded, his heart hammering in his chest. “Of course, neither is attackin’ a man and terrifyin’ the ladies of his house, especially in the security of their home. I have never done such. I am an honest man who believes in protectin’, not only my own family but in assistin’ my neighbors in protectin’ theirs. It is true; some of my neighbors are slaveholders. Still, they are also good Christian men, and when I have ridden with 'em, our intentions were to prevent larcenous invaders from despoilin’ our County.”

As Otto spoke, Doc Jennison swelled up like a carcass left in the sun. “You sound as if you are intentionally pointing fingers, Mr. Huebert.”

“There is an old saying. . .” Otto glared down on the bearded man, “if’n the shoe fits.”

Jennison nodded, his cold smile appearing, “in any case, those we judge as being against our cause, we will take any items or measures to put them down. And, if need be, we shall also make them like the meek, hastening them along to their inheritance of the earth.”

Taking notice of the way Jennison tapped his fingers along the butt of his holster, Otto clamped up his mouth.

“You and your brother shall join us, as we require pilots through this unfamiliar territory.” Waving a hand at the house, Jennison barked, “and strike this place that has bred such a nest of vipers.”

“No!” Otto hollered, and reaching out to throttle the bully before him, a rifle slammed into his head, crushing him to his knees.

“Otto?” Abigail called, moving to aid her son, only to have a raider restrain her. “Let me go! Otto!?”

Shaking his head, Otto wavered to his feet, glaring into Jennison’s grinning face.

“Now. . . Now, refrain yourself, Mr. Huebert, or I fear, much worse may happen.” The hooded eyes slanted toward Abigail and her daughters.

Standing with the other prisoners, their cheeks vivid red and eyes glossy hard, the brothers watched their home lit on fire. As they were herded away, Lucian knew they too had been cowed the same as the others.

Abigail’s strained voice filled the night, “Do not take my sons.”

The invaders moved on, even as she followed.

“Otto. Lucian.”

Looking back, Lucian called, “We will find ya, soon as we can, Ma.”

Stumbling to a standstill, with the fire blazing at her back, Abigail watched as four of Jennison’s Jayhawkers rode by on the horses from her stable, leading her dairy cows. She remained as she was, sweat running freely from her, watching the fading forms of her sons into the night.

After hours of walking, Jennison pulled his horse up, allowing the prisoners to catch up. “Tell me the names of slave owners in your County and those who have prevented negros from taking their freedom.”

The five prisoners grouped tight together, firm and silent.

A square-built Jayhawker wearing a sea cap stepped forward, “we can squeeze the lot of you in a fence corner. It will be a touch painful. Still, I deem . . .” He slipped on cast-iron knuckles with a smile, “you will give over what Doc wants easy enough.”

Exhausted and terrified, Morgan blurted, “Octavius Barnett, Newman Johnson, Harold Massey, Antonio Crowe, and Jeremiah Davis.”

The others edged from Morgan, disgusted at his giving up good men, whom they all knew from church socials and County events.

“Ya been given what ya want.” Otto stated, stepping forward, “Yet, still not one of us owns a negro, or have returned one to slavery. If'n ya are true Christian men. Then it would behoove ya to allow us to return to our kin.”

“Ah, Sonny,” a grizzled, bearded man said, jabbing Otto with the business end of his rifle. “You are not guiltless; each of you has ridden alongside these vile men.”

Otto looked around at the invaders, his tongue tracing across his lower lip, “I do not understand how a man can be condemned for havin’ joined his neighbors to protect his County from unlawful activities.”

Jennison coughed, “I have decided to liberate. . .” He pointed at Morgan and Pritcher, “as you both proved helpful to our cause. You shall return home, and if I hear of you stirring up problems, which I find unamenable, you shall be put down, and I do mean into the ground.”

Jim Pritcher and Kennedy Morgan’s shoulders slumped, and they looked ashamedly away from the other prisoners.

Turning a squinted eye to Lucian, Jennison nodded, “I shall also release the boy. You see, Mr. Huebert, we are not butcherous monsters you have hinted at.” Pointing to the road, he said, “you three take your leave.”

Lucian moved closer to Otto, “I will not leave without my brother.”

“Have it your way,” Jennison replied, and turning his horse, he rode to the front of his men.

Snagging Lucian in a hug, Otto mumbled into his neck. “Ya must go. I love ya and want ya to take what has been given.”

“I will not leave ya.”

“Ma and the girls need ya.” Otto said, squeezing Lucian tighter, “I will be along when I can.”

“Ya, believe that?” Lucian asked, pulling back to look his brother in the face.

“I do,” Otto said, roughing up Lucian’s thick curly hair, just as he had done all the boy’s life. “Now, go on.”

Lucian looked at the men who had hounded and brutalized them across the night. “Otto, I think ya ought to come along with us.”

“That ain’t my choice.” Otto said, inhaling deeply, “ya go now.”

The trio watched the Jayhawkers move west, and the night wore on. Weariness brought the group to a pasture where they all lay down to rest. At dawn, Otto and Martin’s boots were kicked.

They sat up, rubbing their eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” Jennison asked, his shadow pooling around him in the pale light.

Sighing heavily, Otto looked beyond him to the pearly, pink sky.

Martin replied, “Not so well as I would have in my bed.”

“Suppose not.” Removing his cigarette makings, Jennison dabbed them toward the men, “either of you like one?”

Both shook their heads.

“I have made my decision. Those I paroled never admitted riding with men who oppose our beliefs, yet you two did. For this, I have determined, your penalty shall be death by hanging.”

Having made his pronouncement, Jennison handed Otto some paper and a stub of a pencil, “I shall give you five minutes to write your farewells and make your peace with the Lord.”

The shock of his words sunk in, and Martin Cave leaped to his feet, “Why you bastard!”

“Insulting me will not change your situation, Mr. Cave. Yet, if you persist, it will lose you the opportunity I offered for farewells and peace.”

A breeze that promised rain ruffled Otto’s hair as he sat atop his horse, stolen the night before, the same as he was. Martin Cave’s tortured gagging filled Otto’s ears, and from the corner of his eye, he could see his neighbor’s body jerking at the end of a rope.

Then his horse was being led forward with his body edging from the saddle. His right leg caught on the cantle and then drug across the sorrel’s rump. He was falling.

His fall stopped with a sharp drop.

However, the drop was not sharp enough, and Otto twisted, bucking in the soft rain misting down. Painfully, gradually, he strangled to death.

Once confident he was dead, Jennison rode up close and stuffed in Otto’s pocket the paper he had inscribed his farewells upon earlier. Except, while waiting for him to die, Doc Jennison had added text to the bottom of the page.

_These men were executed by God ordered men of Kansas, who believe in the freedom of all men; they were condemned to hell by riding with slave owners and by association, being their helpmates. August 2, 1859. Post Script: all who break the rules we live by shall be put down just as thoroughly._


	3. Language List

The Crowes are a mixed heritage of Louisana French, Celtic, and Frontier America. They and their companions use a pidgin language of purloined words.

From the Crowes, it will be primarily French, and they are speaking; please keep in mind they are not even attempting to speak French as a native would. They use pieces and parts they were raised with, and as they wish, much as a modern speaker uses slang.

As a writer, I also recognize not all forms used wherein are correct…such as _bonn_ is masculine, and _bonne_ is feminine. Yet, in writing the broken pidgin, I chose to use only one form, in most cases. This was done to limit the variety of words, making learning and reading smoother. In the same vein, since the characters speak bits and pieces, it is not generally grammatically correct. For example, in François, it is " _le homme Francais_ ," while in pidgin, it reads "the French _homme_ ," either way, it is still "the French man." 

There are a few instances, full François is spoken. Do not panic; these times are rare, and you will also find sound reasoning for the character speaking in French. The French will be grammatically correct at these times, with the English translation being placed in a footnote.

Please, do not be put off by the Crowe's pidgin. You will find it brings them more to life, adding to their personas. Furthermore, you will also be amazed at how quickly you will be reading right through the words, knowing precisely what they mean. –Sincerely, Nichole

**French-Creole Numbers**

One: une Two: deux Th ree: trois Four: quatre Five : cinq 

Six: six Seven: sept Eight: huit Nine : neuf Ten: dix 

French-Creole Terms for Men & Women 

mâle – male femelle – female 

hom m e – man femme – woman 

garçon – boy fille -- girl 

mari – hustand femme – wife 

père – father mère – mother 

fil – son fille – daughter 

frère – brother sœur – sister 

petit frère – little brother petite sœur – little sister 

frère cadet -- younger brother sœur cadette – younger sister 

grand frère – big brother grande sœur – big sister 

grand frère – elder broth er sœur ainée – elder sister 

oncle – uncle tante – aunt 

neveu – nephew nièce – niece 

cous in – cousin cousine – cousin 

grand- père – grandfather grand-mère – grandmother 

petite fil – grandson petite fille – granddaughter 

chéri – darling, endearment chérie – darling, endearment 

Monsieur – gentleman, adult male Madame – married lady 

abbreviated such as Mr. – M. abbreviated such as Mrs. -- M me. 

Mademoiselle – unmarried lady

abbreviated such as M iss: M lle. 

m essieurs – group of gentlemen mesdemoiselles – group of ladies 

Creole-French-Irish-Latin

à bientôt see you soon

à vrai dire to tell you th e truth 

ami friend

amis friends

amour love 

arrivée arrive 

au contraire on the contrary, opposite 

au revoir good bye 

bairn Scottish......babe, child

bienheureuse Marie blessed Mary 

bienvenue welcome 

bonne good 

bonne nuit good night 

beauté beautiful 

bébés baby 

belle pretty 

bleu blue 

blanc white 

bonjour hello 

café coffee 

cadet younger, youngest 

c’est this is, that is, it is 

chambre bedroom 

chien dog 

chère dear 

cheval horse

Chevalier horseman, cavalryman

considered deem, think 

copains friends, pals 

dauphin prince 

deartháir Irish…. brother 

désolé sorry 

devoir duty 

Dieu God 

diplomatique diplomatic 

doux sweet 

doux Mère Marie sweet Mother Mary 

eejit Irish…. idiot 

enfant infant 

esclaves slaves 

étrange strange 

excusez excuse 

excusez-moi excuse me 

famille family 

faveur favor

favori favorite 

femme wife 

fleur flower 

François French 

garçon boy, young men 

gracieux gracious 

garçonnière bachelor flat, separate home for the young men of the household 

grace de Dieu grace of God 

grand elder, big 

honneur honor

indépendant independent 

J' adore I adore, I love

jamais never 

je m'en fiche I do not care 

jeune young 

je t'aime I love you 

joli pretty 

ken Scottish........know

L'Eau Sucrée Sweet Water, plantation in Louisana 

libre free 

liberté freedom 

Louisiane Creole for Louisiana 

Louisianais Creole for Louisianans 

máthair Irish mother 

mal bad 

maison home, house 

maîtresse mistress 

maladie illness

malchance bad luck, misfortune

magnifique magnificent

magnifuiment beautifully

mariée bride

mariage marriage 

matin morning

mêlée fight 

merci thank you 

merci beaucoup thank you very much 

merveilleux wonderful 

mérite d'honneur merit of honor

mes apologies my apologies 

mes excuses excuse me 

moi me 

mon or m’ my 

naïve little wisdom, knows little of the world 

nom name 

nommé named 

nom de Dieu name of God 

non no 

nouveau brand new 

oui yes 

par by 

par contre on the other hand 

pardonné pardon 

per contra Latin......on the other hand 

petite young, small, tiny, little-used for females 

petit young, small, tiny, little-used for males

pourquoi why

pour cette raison wherefore 

précieux precious 

promesse promise 

quand when 

qu’elle what 

quelle honte what a shame, for shame 

raison reason 

remercier la sainte vierge thank you holy virgin 

sainte mère holy mother 

see herself, himself, themself 

s’il vous plaît please 

sine qua non Latin...........an essential condition, a necessary thing. 

sucré sweet, sugary, candied 

très very

très desole so very sorry 

tempère temper

toujours always 

tu me manques you are missing from me, you are a part of me, you are crucial to me 

tu me fatigues you’re annoying me 

vert green

Vieux Carré old square, Creole for French Quarter 

visite visit 

visiteurs visitors 

vœu vow 

vous you 

vraiment really and truly 

_**Creole-French Cursing** _

aller en enfer go to hell 

bâtard bastard 

bienheureuse Marie blessed Mary

bordel de merde oh fuck/oh shit 

chiant translates to ‘that pisses me off’ 

crétin mental and/or physical idiot 

Christ sur un chariot Christ on a cart 

Christ sur une Croix Christ on a cross 

connerie bullshit 

dégage piss off 

dégénéré worthless inbred 

diable devil 

doux Jésus sweet Jesus 

ferme ta gueule shut your fucking mouth 

fils de pure son of a bitch 

feu de l'enfer hellfire 

imbécile idiot, complete fool 

je m’en fou I do not care 

je m'en fous I do not fucking care 

Jésus a pleuré Jesus wept 

malheureux wretched, unlucky, ill-fated, miserable 

merde shit 

par Dieu by God 

par tous les saints by all the saints 

pour l'amour de Dieu for the love of God 

putain fuck 

putain d'enfer fucking hell 

putain en enter fucking go to hell 

qu’elle diable what in the hell 

ta gueule shut up 

va te faire you're fuck you 

visser voter screw you 

zut damn it 


	4. Chapter ONE

Chapter One

**Saturday, August 13, 1859**

“Leave it be,” Simone snapped, looking his way as the sheet drifted down across the mattress. “What did I just say?”

“I heard you.”

In the three little words, she could hear his exasperation, “ _Mon chéri_ , it done makes _vous_ look civilized. Puts on _vous_ frock and ignores it.”

“Cannot fathom why you deem I even needs to wear it.”

“Done tolds _vous_ why,” Simone responded as she finished making the walnut, four-poster bed. Hearing him once more tugging at the perfectly tied cravat, she hastened over, swatting his shoulder, “Lafayette Henri, I said leaves it be.”

Relinquishing his destructive hold on the stiff, white tie, he grumbled. “It is a foolish contraption, Mams.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded her head up at him.

With a snort, he dutifully raised his chin, allowing her to fix any damage he had done.

“Betimes, I deem _vous_ untrainable. How many times must I inform _vous_ snorting like a hog in mud lowers _vous_ right down to trash who ain’t worth the dirt on they skin.”

He wryly replied, “Perhaps a few more.”

Pursing her lips, her eyes went up and down him. “ _Qu’elle_ is I to do with all _m’ bébés_ growing so big.”

He shrugged, stepping away.

“Lafe, it be as I have said, it be time for _vous_ to find yourself a bride, then there would be _bébés_ about heres for _moi_ to _amour_.”

“Aw, Mams do not commence pushin’ _moi_ ‘bouts a bride. Ain’t I said, I ain’t ready.”

Turning, he caught his reflection in the mirror and paused, thinking. ‘She is correct, though, I am considered ready for marriage. Imagine how folk will run on when they discover I have chosen not to follow the great Southern list of life commandments.’ His lips pressed together, becoming a white slash. ‘ _Feu de l’enfer_ , a _femme_ ain’t nothing but a hindrance.'

Smoothing stray hairs from his forehead, he nodded to himself. 'Once I have graduated and become an accomplished counselor, then I can take time choosin’ just the right _fille. Une_ who would improve _m’_ presence as I move toward garnering a seat in our Nation’s Capital.’ Turning his face side to side, he sucked in his cheeks, his dimples becoming straight, deep grooves in his face.

Catching him preening, Simone raised her voice, “If'n _vous_ ain’t feeling all-mighty positive of _vous_ self-importance this mornin’.”

Lafayette cringed, his dimples pitting into his reddening face.

“Lafe, why _vous_ wants to abandon all who _amour vous_ by going to live so far away is just beyond _moi_.” Snatching up a discarded shirt, she vehemently folded it, “There will be plenty of well-bred _mesdemoiselles_ at the Barnett’s picnic. There ain’t _non_ call for _vous_ to travel all the way to the Atlantic to find _une._ ” She flung him a frown, slapping the shirt down on the bed. “ _Vous_ has _vous_ choice of 'em, right here?”

Mischief sparked in the depths of his dark eyes, “Mams, I am positive you are correct. If’n it makes you feel better, I do have every intention today of dancin’, even becomin’ plain engulfed in the sweet fragrances of some them well-bred _filles_ you are speakin’ of. Still, you mark _m’_ words, I will also retain _m’ liberté._ Coming and goin’ as I wish, gamblin’, drinkin', huntin’ without some _fille_ hobbling _moi_ afore I leave for Transylvania University…” pausing, he smiled larger, “…this fall, all the way _Back_ _East_.” He added emphasis to his final words, as he knew it was his studying law back in Lexington, Kentucky, which had brought on her daily harping for him to find a bride and settle down.

Simone crossed her arms.

“Mams, tarnation, but a _femme_ and _bébés_ would be an outright botheration to _moi_!”

They stared at each other, neither moving.

At last, Simone shook her head, making a tsking sound. “Lafayette Henri Begnoir Crowe, _vous_ ought be purely ashamed of _vous_ self.”

“ _Qu’elle_ for?”

“ _Vous_ darling _Mère_ would be grief-stricken if she was with us. Frankly, I find it hard to believe a child of her blood blathering on so immorally.”

Lafayette’s smile grew so large, his dimples danced with merriment.

“Oh, _vous_ terrible imp!” Simone shook her head, briskly at him. “Laughing, right here in her home, when such sins as drinking, coarse language, and gambling stain _vous_ soul. Makes _moi_ sorrowful knowing how _vous_ be so spitefully sinful, after all, I dones for _vous_?”

What Simone said was more than merely her belief, for she had raised Lafayette along with five siblings these past sixteen years since their mother’s death. Nevertheless, not a remonstration crossed her lips when she did not call upon the expectations of their deceased mother, Gena Lorraine.

Just as if he was bluffing at a poker table, Lafayette’s smile remained in place, only the sparkle faded from his eyes as he thought. ‘When will I ever get Mams to understand, it is _qu’elle_ she thinks that matters to _moi._ Not the great and grand Gena Lorraine she enjoys lordin’ over all of’n us. _Jésus a pleuré,_ Gena Lorraine ain’t nothing more to _moi_ than a paintin’ hangin’ in the parlor?’ Exhaling slowly, he hitched his thumbs in his vest pockets, rocking back on his heels.

Having pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, Simone dabbed at her eyes, “Well, I suppose, I just ain’t dones right by _vous_.” Sniffing hard, she warbled, “and, I tried so, so hard to raise y’all just as Miz Genni would of dones herself.”

Utterly cognizant of this ruse, as Simone used it on him, more often than she realized, Lafayette chuffed out a laugh and picking her up, he spun her round and round. “Come on, Mams, you rightfully know, you have done an incomparable deed of bruiting all of’n us into manners; _mon_ self included.”

“Lafe, _vous_ puts _moi_ down.”

He sighed, “aww, Mams,” and kissing her cheek, placed her feet on the red and blue Oriental rug as if she were fragile as porcelain.

“Do not be sugaring _moi_ none. ‘Cause, if’n I had done rights, _vous_ would not be so terrible sinful.”

“Mams cease frettin’. I _amour_ you too much to act out exactly as the devil suggests in _m’_ ear,” Lafayette replied, pushing his lower lip into a pout.

“I surely _amours vous._ ” She cupped his cheek, “and it would do _m’_ heart _bonne_ if’n _vous_ would cease being such a rapscallion. It vexes _moi_ to _non_ end when _vous_ are.”

“I will try,” he replied, wrapping her in his arms.

Enjoying the steady sound of his beating heart, she said. “Seems not so long ago, I could wrap _vous_ up.” Pulling back, she once more cupped his cheek, peering up into his eyes, dark as a cup of chicory. “I miss them days when _vous_ was _m’ petit garçon._ ”

“You told _moi,_ I would _toujours_ be your _garçon_.”

“That _vous_ will be.” She quickly kissed his cheek. “Now, be a _bonne garçon,_ and afore leaving say _au revoir_ to _vous_ _petit frère._ More importantly, encourage ‘em not to be such a wrathful bull this day.”

“I shall try.”

Simone shook her head, her gaze drifting heavenward as she crossed herself, “ _Bonne Dieu_ , _s’il vous plaît,_ watch over this here _garçon._ And if’n I _vous_ would only let _moi_ know what offense, I dones, to have such punishment ladled on _moi_ as Taddy with _maladie_ ; I would surely make amends. I would.”

Her sheer dramatic, forlornness caused a snort to erupt from Lafayette.

Simone’s golden eyes darted his way “ _Garçon!_ ” She waggled a finger at him, “ _Vous_ done pushed _moi_ enough, alreadys.”

Lafayette looked down fast, focusing his eyes on the intricate patterns swirling through the woven rug, covering most of his floor.

“ _Vous_ done kept _moi_ in here too long, I gots to hustle Josie along. That _fille_ can be slower than a mule. And...” opening the door to the hallway, Simone pointed at him, “... leaves that cravat be.”

When she snapped the door closed, Lafayette remained as he was, listening to her swift, clicking heels until he could hear them no more. Only then did he take a seat on the cowhide settee, near his bedroom window, his thoughts turning to the picnic their Father had informed him and Joséphine they would attend, thereby socially upholding their family name.

‘If’n all the rumors are true, it should be quite the shindig Colonel Barnett is throwin’ for Elizabeth’s sixteenth birthday.’ Taking up one of his boots, Lafayette slipped it on. ‘ _Feu de l’enfer_ , knowin’ it is for Elizabeth, ain’t assisted _moi_ in workin’ up any sort of hankerin’ to go. I ain’t ever met a _fille_ so wickedly selfish as Elizabeth and her voice; it is like a starling squawking in your ear.’ He slid his tongue across his upper teeth, ‘and damnation, she has followed _moi_ ‘bout like a puppy these past gatherings; rattlin’ on how her Papa is goin’ to let her have a beau soon.' He grimaced, a shiver running straight down his spine when he bent to retrieve his second boot. ‘Right there is _qu’elle_ this party is ‘bout.' Standing, he moved to his desk. ‘Colonel Barnett’s will be announcin’, to one and all, he is ready to accept _mariage_ offers for ‘er.'

As he scanned the row of books above his desk, he felt a hard lump take up residence in his stomach. ' _Jésus a pleuré_ , I have a feelin’ Elizabeth will be doin’ more than tossin’ simpering smiles _m’_ way.’

Jerking open the desk’s top drawer, Lafayette pocketed his wallet, watch, smoke, and match tins. ‘ _Par Dieu,_ I do not want to go! Even if’n Elizabeth leaves _moi_ be, every gent there will be grousing ‘bout politics, slavery, along with anything else the Border has bled out. I am damn worn down on conversations of abolitionists, Jim Lane, border raids, and the never-ending deliberation of why we all should secede.'

The lump in his gut tightened, ‘not even Saint Peter could explain _m’_ views regardin’ slavery, raidin’, and the various new Senatorial laws. Furthermore, if’n I slip sayin’ just _une_ wrong supposition, I will get _m’_ ass branded a hypocrite and ostracized since _m’ famille_ originates from Kentucky and _Louisiane_.’

Removing his ivory-handled, six-inch blade from the drawer, he rolled the honed steel between his fingers. “ _Vraiment,_ I would rather stay home as it sure would be easier to protect _m’_ neutrality for a bit longer.

Sliding the blade into the shaft of his right boot; he slammed the drawer shut, thinking. ‘and I would put money down; I, yet again, get invited to join the Cavaliers or some other patrol unit. Especially with everyone preachin’, _it is a Missourian's sovereign duty to join together, to prevent Kansas foragers from raping the soils of our State and terrorizin’ its citizens_.

Regretfully, I simply cannot condone the current eye for an eye justice being carried out by units. Besides, the many fascinating, even imaginative descriptions I have heard regarding their form of justice have moi wonderin’ if’n they even understand the connotation of the word. Well, hopefully, I can bluff _m’_ way through today while avoidin’ being labeled a fraud or a coward.”

Frowning toward his brother’s room, Lafayette snorted. ‘Perhaps it is just as well; Taddy ain’t goin’ that if’n I do fail, leastways, I will not drag ‘em down with _moi_.'


	5. Chapter TWO

Chapter Two

The second floor of the Crowe’s home, Sienna, was much like a French Quarter courtyard. In that, all the rooms hugged the outer walls, leaving the center open, save for its central curving staircase. Each room was connected to its neighbor by thick sets of black walnut sliding doors, and day-to-day, these doors remained closed, creating privacy. Except, when summer’s heat set the house afire, then they and the windows were thrown open, allowing cooling breezes to swirl throughout Sienna’s Great House.

Placing his hands on the set of doors dividing his room from his younger brother’s, Lafayette took a preparatory breath.

Each time the Doctor visited, he firmly stated Thaddeus was to continue with bed rest as this was the best course of action for whipping the ague. Ague being the generalized term, he had applied to Thaddeus’ mysterious, lingering illness.

Although Lafayette tended to agree with Mams, Doctor Mathews did not have one harebrained notion of what ailed his brother. What they knew for sure was Thaddeus was plagued by fevers, bouts of weakness, and at times, breathing became near impossible for him.

Pushing the doors open, Lafayette thought, ‘Hope he is asleep.’

“ _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ ; you can hang off sneakin’ in like some haunt. All your damn noise has had _moi_ up for hours.”

Lafayette knew quite well; he was not the reason. Nevertheless, he also knew his younger brother found perverse joy in kicking up a row with anyone who would fight back, and regrettably, confinement had honed his skills.

Standing straighter, Lafayette told himself, ‘do not rise to any bait he throws at you.' Stepping into the dim room, he snorted at the sour stench of illness coated in stale cigar smoke. Walking on through the shifting shadows flitting across the room, Lafayette found himself staring at an empty mahogany sleigh bed, with its blankets in disheveled piles about its carved paw feet.

"Over here," Thaddeus called.

Turning, Lafayette frowned at his brother clad only in his drawers, standing at the full glass, double doors with the morning light illuminating his tousled black hair. “Damnation, Taddy, you are supposed to be in bed.”

"What the hell for?” Thaddeus replied, hobbling about like an old-timer on an icy day and taking a seat on a chair he had moved to the window weeks ago. “It damn-well ain’t been helpin’ me thus far,” he grunted, chewing on a cigar that was releasing sluggish puffs of smoke into the already stuffy room.

Frowning, Lafayette thought, ‘he must be feverin’ again. He is paler than fresh milk.’

With a shaky hand, Thaddeus pulled the cigar from his mouth, letting it dangle from his fingers. “Well, hell, if’n Mams ain’t got you baited out as a marriageable prospect.”

Slipping a finger under the thick, double wrapping about his neck, which Lafayette felt certain was gradually strangling the life out of him, he reminded himself, ‘Do not take the bait. He would enjoy goading you into a hollerin’ match.’

“If’n I recollect…” Thaddeus said, his vivid, green eyes slid up-and-down his brother, “the most obtainable girl at the whole damn party will be Miss Elizabeth.” His crooked, chipped tooth smile appeared, “You goin’ to be courtin’ her for nuptials?”

" _Chiant_! I cannot believe you would verbalize such an infernal horrid idea.” Lafayette cried out, emphasizing his words by shoving his hands away from him. “ _Par Dieu_ , Taddy, you of all folks, rightly know, I would not have her for all the gold in California.”

Having found a chink in his brother’s façade, Thaddeus fell to laughing. But it became caught in his throat, shifting to a hollow cough that continued on and on until, with a mighty gag, he was able to regain control. Leaning against his knees with his shoulders shuddering violently, he struggled at catching his breath.

The brothers were now inches from each other as Lafayette had dropped by Thaddeus’ side, prepared to do whatever he bade of him.

Looking up, Thaddeus hissed, in a voice so faint it sounded more like wind whistling through dry grass, “Ain’t I just recuperatin’ fuckin’ fine?”

His statement did not make either of them feel any better. Standing, Lafayette searched for anything to push away the dark thoughts they had just shared. So, when a chunk of ash fell from the cigar, Lafayette arched a brow, eyeballing the soft, gray pile of soot staining the rug. “You know, Taddy, it comes to reason Father is goin’ to knock you damn-well sideways when he sees this here _chambre_.”

“Bullocks! I can outright say I would welcome it.” Thaddeus wheezed, jutting his chin, squaring up for battle. “I am so damn fed up. I might ’en as well be shot, just to end _m’_ damn suffering. All the fussin’ over _moi_ has rubbed _moi_ plain raw. Now, here you go headin’ out to one of the last damn, worthwhile gatherings of the season and _moi_... _moi_... I am quarantined like a bonafide pox carrier.”

"Do not be preposterous," Lafayette replied, dropping an arm around his brother’s shoulders. However, when he did, he flinched because Thaddeus was hotter than a winning horse off a mile-long track. “Truth is . . .” He heaved Thaddeus on to his feet. “I ain’t goin’ to have a lick of enjoyment without you.”

The pair of them wove across the room like drunken pals, and all the while, Lafayette trying to ignore how dearly the short walk was costing his brother.

Reaching the bed, Thaddeus dropped on it with a magnificent plop. “Aw, air up to it, Lafe…” he panted, his fingers gripping tight of the mattress edge, “…you are only goin’ on so to humor _moi_.” Then with a bone-weary groan, he set to righting himself into the bed.

Moving to help, Lafayette pulled up short, thinking. ‘If’n I help ‘em, it will touch a match to his damn temper. Has he already not made it clear how fed up he is with bein’ fussed over?’ Opting instead for retrieving the blankets, Lafayette spoke out, loud enough to cover Thaddeus’ labored grunts. “You are incorrect in your assumption. _Mon_ druthers are to have you by _m’_ side. _Feu de l’enfer_ , it does not feel natural ridin’ off Sienna without you.”

“Ah, hell, you do not mean that.”

Lafayette’s face pulled into a tight smile, a wave of sadness welling up so dark and painful, he had to look away as he tossed the blankets across his brother. For he had meant what he said since, from the time Thaddeus had learned to walk, he had created a routine of sticking closer to Lafayette than his own shadow ever could. Swallowing unbidden tears, Lafayette heard himself saying, “Taddy, I am speakin’ true, I feel damn lost without you.”

Thaddeus nodded, staring off at the light haloing the windows.

Taking a seat on the bed, Lafayette examined the corpse-pale young man across from him. ‘Where is _m_ _’ frère?_ ’, he thought, a shiver running across his skin.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Thaddeus removed the smoldering cigar from his mouth, his weak hands fumbled it, and Lafayette caught the cigar as it fell, tossing it in a glass of water, sitting on the side table.

“Hells bells, Lafe! That was a _Louisiane_ Maduro, and, to top the barrel, I ain’t got _non_ more smokes up here.”

“I can see why,” Lafayette replied, waving his hand at the innumerable piles of ash decorating the rug. “Sides, I am of the impression smokin’, ain’t entirely what you need to be doin’, right about damn now.”

“Oh, I see. You are right in line with the rest of 'em to boss _moi_ the hell around. _Chiant,_ it does not surprise _moi_ none since you are skunkin’ off and abandonin’ _moi_ for Mams to harass all damn day long. I tell you, if’n the ague ain’t the death of _moi_ , it will be all her mollycoddling.”

“Ah, Taddy, it cannot be as _mal_ as all that.”

Thaddeus’ brows shot upwards.

Pausing to look at it from his brother’s view, Lafayette could see Mams invading his privacy, stripping him of any authority and freedom at her slightest whim, and he winced. “All right, maybe it is.”

“Damn right it is.”

Thinking, ‘damn glad it ain’t _moi,_ ’ a relieved laugh burst from Lafayette.

“Well, hell, you might’en as well laugh at _moi_ , since the only reason you are in here is to shine all over _moi_ ‘bouts leavin’ anyways.” Thaddeus dismally shook his head. “Let _moi_ tell you _Frère_ that is downright rotten, since you know I ain’t been out of this infernal room in a month of Sundays?”

“Taddy,” Lafayette shook his head. “We both know you are scrimping the truth. ‘Cause, I know as well as you . . . _you pinched that Maduro_ from the humidor on Father’s desk, although I do not understand how you managed it. Sides, I did not come in here to shine all over you. I merely came in to check on you.” The moment the words ‘check on you’ crossed his lips, Lafayette knew he had made a grievous error.

"Screw and cuss you!" Thaddeus bellowed. "I do not require you checking on _moi_ like some a damn _bébé; g_ et the hell out of _m’ chambre_! AND I ain’t requirin’ none of your damn charity, so, do not bother draggin’ your _malheureux_ ass back in here. _Dégage_!”

‘Do not rile ‘em anymores,’ Lafayette thought, ‘last thing we need is him havin’ _une_ of his breathin’ paroxysms.’ When from the corner of his eye, he saw a punch coming his way and quicker than a stallion’s bite, he snatched it from the air, his eyes shifting to sharp bits of obsidian flint.

“ _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ , Thaddeus Robert, and you best cease dog eyeing _moi_! You ain’t got the right to strike _moi,_ and you damn well know it!” Throwing his brother’s hand from him, Lafayette shook his head with a growl. “It ain’t _m’_ fault you garnered this blamed _maladie,_ rubbin’ elbows, and who knows what else, with that filthy McIntosh clan. So, do not think for _une_ second, I am goin’ to allow you to take your frustrations out on _moi_.”

The McIntosh clan lived off the Missouri River, surviving on anything they could steal from it or the people who traveled on it. Their home was a run aground riverboat, and like a pack of rats, each successive generation had enlarged the structure to fit their needs. Its haphazard frame contained a den of the vilest sins occurring non-stop around the clock. Hence, most of the populace avoided them unless they wanted to gamble, imbibe cheap hooch, or ball up with cheaper women. For these were the virtues of the place, and they called to young men like a siren’s song. All three of the Crowe brothers, along with nearly all their companions, had visited the den, from time to time, and never did they mention it openly.

At any rate, when Thaddeus and his best pal, Fox Northrup, last visited, Thaddeus had not escaped with just his morals stained. No, he had brought a fever illness with him.

Simone made it clear to all who would listen, especially Thaddeus; the Lord was chastising him for his sins, the least of which was dodging evening prayers.

Doctor Mathews, who was less prone to dramatics, had dryly told Thaddeus, he had the ague, and strong doses of quinine combined with plenty of rest, the illness would, given time, run its course to the end. What end, the Doctor had never elaborated.

Feeling his anger rising, Lafayette took a breath to say more when Thaddeus’ eyes bulged, and a series of high-pitched wheezing coughs erupted from him.

“ _Bordel de merde_!” Lafayette leapt forward, shoving pillows behind Thaddeus until he sat upright. Yet even as he did this, his younger brother glared at him balefully.

“Enough, Taddy! You got m’ blood damn heated." Standing, Lafayette crossed to the sideboard. "I am through with this damn foolishness, and I am advisin’ you not to hedge your bets _une_ bit further. _Zut,_ Taddy, you are hotter than banked coals.” Pouring water in a basin, Lafayette ran the wet cloth across Thaddeus’ fevered skin. “Here on out, you will stay in this damn bed and, I mean it, even if’n I gotta tie you down.”

“Lafe---” Thaddeus started but clamped his mouth shut on seeing Lafayette’s left dimple moving like a piston on a freight engine. It was not that he was afraid of his brother but knew him well enough not to keep on when Lafayette was like this.

“You will also break-off dosin’ the _famille_ with your vile manners. You honestly believe we are not weary of your invalid state? And do you further presume we relish havin’ you this way?”

Thaddeus rubbed of his forehead, his hand remaining before his face, blocking his view of his brother.

“You may be _m' frère cadet_ ; still there are days, _par Dieu,_ I want to knock your fool head in. Why can you not put more damn effort into followin’ directives and less into stirrin’ up fuckin’ hell?” Dropping the cloth in the bowl, Lafayette snarled, “now, look at _moi_."

Lowering his hand, Thaddeus raised his glossy, green eyes to his brother.

" _Bonne,_ you got some color back, and your air is soundin’ better,” Lafayette said, with a brisk nod, went to the sideboard, where he poured a fresh glass of water. “Taddy,” he paused, inhaling through his nose, straining to tamp his anger down. “Figure, it is just as well, you ain’t goin’.”

Sounding petulant, Thaddeus asked, “Why?”

“If'n you were to attend in your present damn humor, then the pair of’n us would spend the day guardin’ each other’s damn backsides. ‘Cause, I am confident, you would incite a right _bonne_ brawl with each nincompoop you crossed.”

Thaddeus' nose wrinkled, thinking, ‘Hellfire, if’n he ain’t right.’ Returning to the bed, Lafayette was smiling to beat the devil, and Thaddeus released a soft sigh, ‘worse, he knows he is right.’

"You resigned to; at least, pretend you got some manners?”

Thaddeus nodded.

Placing the glass on the side table after Thaddeus had drank, Lafayette studied his brother when abruptly he brushed Thaddeus’ shaggy, ebony bangs from his face, thinking. ‘ _Par Dieu,_ it ain’t fair our last summer together, and you are stuck here.’

Thaddeus’ brows drew low, “you all right?”

“Course I am,” Lafayette said, standing and flashing his dimples. “Sides, you do appreciate the other _messieurs_ will be right festive when they realize you ain’t present.”

“Hellfire, do not know why? I get along with most all of ’em, even the ones I done exchanged blows with.”

“See, the way I have it figured is with you not being there; it leaves just _moi_.” The dimpled grin expanded until Lafayette’s eyes crinkled. “And I got _moi_ this notion that we _deux_ just may have an unfair advantage over the rest of 'em poor, homely _bâtards_.” He chuckled, ‘Course, then again, you are pretty damn homely yourself compared to _moi_.”

Thaddeus' mouth unhinged, laughter rolling from him that had his single dimple flickering in his right cheek. “You swollen-headed coot! Go on and get, afore I decide to go…sure as hell showin’ you who the _filles_ prefer.”

Theatrically snapping off a salute, Lafayette marched from the room. Just when Thaddeus thought he was alone, his brother peeked back around the door; “Hey Taddy... _une_ _faveur.”_

“ _Qu’elle_?”

“Hold yourself in check and work on recoupin’, _Je t’aime._ ” Saying this, he shut the door before his brother could reply with false bravado. Though they loved each other, it was rare for them to say it aloud. Even so, he wanted Thaddeus to hear it, particularly after their disagreement.


	6. Chapter THREE

Chapter Three

A slamming door echoed through the house, and turning his eyes to the second floor where it had come from, Lafayette grunted, "What the hell is goin' on?"

Retracing his steps back up the curved central staircase, he promptly spied Simone barreling along the hall, head bowed, and roundly muttering in French.

French was Simone's native language as she was born Simone Renée at _L'eau Sucrée_ plantation in St. Tammany Parish, Louisiana. Except she was not a slave, but a free woman. Tall, lean with ebony skin and flashing gold eyes, known as a force to be reckoned with by all who mistakenly crossed her.

The plantation where she was born belonged to Lafayette Begnoir as did, she, and as a small child, Simone was made the constant companion of his granddaughter, Gena Lorraine.

In the Deep South, the Begnoir name was synonymous with wealth. They owned several plantations, riverboats, and entire blocks in numerous towns. They were proud Catholic Creoles. Descendants of Louisiana's earliest colonists, and like any proper Southern family, the Begnoirs could quote their lineage, which flowed from aristocratic lines that once sunned themselves on France's lawns as smoothly as rattling off their children's names.

Their old nobility approach to life was often why the Begnoirs treated their house slaves with a deference bordering on kinship. All Simone Renée knew was she was not merely Miz Genni's lady's maid, but her confidant, her friend. Their friendship grew as they shared dreams and secrets of who they wished to be and what they would do once they were old enough to make the rules.

On the morning of her marriage to Antonio Crowe, Gena Lorraine told Simone, 'I am now old enough to make the rules,' and gave Simone her freedom papers. Simone kissed her friend and, without hesitation, replied, 'so am I, and I choose to travel to Missouri with _m' ami._ '

Proud to be a free woman of color, Simone was even more so to become the Mammy for Gena's children. Never did Simone falter in her position, even as her duties expanded with each new baby Crowe.

Always in charge, first to rise, last to bed, and forever a protective bulwark for all who called Sienna home. And although she was not a slave, Simone was a servant. However, a person would play hell trying to convince her she was not the ruler of Sienna's Great House and, more importantly, its children. To her, the Crowes were her family, and through the years since Gena Lorraine's death, she strived to raise Sienna's children to conduct themselves in accordance with their great blood and heritage.

Standing at the top of the stairs, Lafayette's curiosity got the better of him, and propping his elbow on the newel post, he drawled, "Hey, Mams."

Simone jumped, gripping her heaving chest, "Laws, Lafe!"

His dimples appeared.

Glancing back down the hall, Simone said, "Your _sœur_ has dones lost her mind. She purely will not heed anything I says."

"That so?"

"Mmm-hmm, I told her that picnic would be filled with high-quality folk. That _fille_ raised that chin of hers, tellin' _moi_ , she do not care _une_ Dutch coin _qu'elle_ others think. That she will do as she pleases." Simone glared, again, back down the hallway for a moment. "I am fetching, Mister. He needs to come speaks with her. 'Cause, she has done dug her heels in. She 'bout to find out, she be wrong this time."

"You think Father can change her mind?"

"Do not know, Lafe, but something must be done 'cause she is also saying she ain't dressing to lure in _non_ husband, 'cause. . . ." Abruptly, Simone stiffened, and she tilted her head, taking a step closer to Lafayette. "she does not want _non_ husband tying 'er down." Simone's face twisted with wrath, her nostrils flaring like a hound catching the scent.

Lafayette's dimples faltered, and swallowing hard, he took a step backward, only to run up against the curved stair railing.

"If'n I finds out, _vous_ has been placing your dim-witted notions in her head." Simone's golden eyes were gleaming slits, "Why I _promesse_ _vous_ , _Garçon_ , _non_ amount of _amour_ will save _vous_ from _moi_."

Lafayette went a bit pale.

With a hard shake of her head, Simone snapped, "I will deal with _vous_ later. Right nows, I gots _m'_ hands full enough. Peter's Gate, first _vous_ , now 'er, and all the while Taddy acting like he is trying to earn his self a seat at Lucifer's table. I _promesse_ y'all is goin' to put _moi_ straight in _m'_ grave." Snatching up her skirts, Simone huffed down the stairs, still grumbling to herself in French as she went.

Watching her go, Lafayette remained still, absently stroking the edge of his ear. It was not until his father's study door snapped closed, did a burst of air whoosh from him, which he had not realized he was holding, and muttered, "that was close."

If there was one juncture any child raised at Sienna could agree on, it was the way Simone could seize and wrench an ear was a horrendous experience. A couple of years ago, Lafayette put forth a case to their father, in which he explained, the pain Simone induced brought a person to their knees, and it was plain wearisome being on guard from such occurrence happening. Lafayette had then put forth, he and his siblings felt that as their father and the Master of Sienna, he should straight out forbid her from snatching hold of them in such a way, ever again.

Unfortunately, to Lafayette's utter humiliation, their father had laughed until tears dripped from his face before getting out. 'I am astonished what you will let the others talk you into, so as their duly appointed envoy, listen up real close. If'n all of'n you would behave more like the blood of your breeding and less as y'all currently do, there would be no need for such knee-dropping _occurrences._ However, until that day shines, I give Simone my full and complete blessing, as it appears to be the one true punitive measure which controls the whole damn lot of you.'

On leaving the study, Lafayette had felt his reply was unfair. However, later, he admitted to himself that it was not only just but also correct. Still, it had been hard going, explaining this to his same siblings who badgered him into appealing to their father. Himself, he had taken the words to heart, so it was a rare day for Simone to latch on to him. Although, to be on the safe side, when she was irritated, he kept himself more than an arm's length from her.

Dropping his hand from his ear, Lafayette gazed, for a time, at the red and white china decorating the dining room table in the center of the lower room. He sighed, 'If'n I go down now, I might be called afore Father's desk,' his mouth quirked to the side, and he looked toward the rooms of his sisters.

His eldest sister, Katharine, was elegant, amicable, and moral to the point of prudishness. A perfect Southern lady. Except being so also tended to make her tiresome company, so mostly, he avoided Katharine.

Then there was his youngest sister; also, Thaddeus' twin, Eudora. She was the embodiment of love and laughter. The entire family believed her to be the sweetest person God ever created, and each of them adored her. However, long ago, Lafayette had outgrown her.

Which left Joséphine Michèle Antoinette, whom Lafayette often declared, 'it would be a safe bet that she was outright resolute on breakin' every rule printed in the book of decorum.' Joséphine's poor choices and conduct often produced heated debates. When they erupted, Lafayette happily stepped in as her advocate, for no other reason than he found her antics amusing, even when the rest of their family did not.

Standing outside her bedroom door, he slid his tongue across his front teeth, hearing clear as a rifle shot their father's remarks during last Sunday's supper. 'Josie, the time has arrived for your shenanigans to cease. You are far beyond an age to be settin' our neighbors' tongues to wagging as you do.'

'Could he be correct?' Lafayette thought, a sharp tingle racing down his spine. "If'n so, this is the first time I have stopped to consider how her actions might reflect on Sienna…and the rest of'n us.' Not liking his thoughts, he scrubbed his hands up his face and back through his hair when from the other side of the door, he heard Joséphine hollering.

Placing his ear to the wood, he jerked back in disbelief. 'Damnation, if'n she ain't bellowin' to Peter, all the way down, at the stables!' A snort escaped him, and he muttered, "well, that sure ain't ladylike."

Rapping smartly on her door, he was rewarded with the rattling clatter of a window being slammed shut. A grin spread across Lafayette's face, and he rapped again.

There was a loud flurry of movement inside, and he chuckled, saying. "Ha! She deems I am Father. _Par Dieu,_ but I _amour_ her and the trouble she stirs up."

When Joséphine swung the door open, revealing her most pert smile and freshly pinched cheeks, laughter rolled loudly from Lafayette as he pushed by, walking in. "I swear, you ain't happy unless you are causin' a ruckus."

Shooting a look toward the main stairs, she heaved a relieved sigh and shut the door, melting against it.

"You best enjoy your reprieve as I am positive Father will be headin' up," Lafayette said, from where he flopped himself on her chaise lounge.

She scrutinized him and placing her hands on her hips, her pecan colored eyes, which had moments before been overflowing with sweetness, hardened. "What do you want?!"

"Just thought I might see _qu'elle_ you did to put Mams in such a tizzy."

"Ain't none of your business."

"That so?" He arched an eyebrow, laughter rumbling deep in his chest.

She glanced at her door, hissing, " _Zut!_ Lafe, go pester, Taddy."

"Already been there."

Rolling her eyes, she opened her door, gesturing for him to exit.

"Why you want _moi_ gone so _mal_?"

"I just ain't got time for your foolishness." She said, leaning out her door, listening intently to the quiet house.

"Jo?"

Stepping into the hall, she moved to the railing, again straining to hear.

"Jo?"

"What?" She turned on him, impatience bright in her face, "What?"

He stood, gracefully unfolding himself from the chaise, a Machiavellian smile appearing, "Perhaps, I am the _une_ you should be frettin' 'bouts?"

Returning, she glared at him, her full red lips pinched tight.

"Mams informed _moi,_ she will be speakin' to _moi_ later, regardin' placin' all sorts of insane notions in your head."

"Now, Lafe-Sugah," Joséphine cooed, quietly closing the door.

"Oh, it is, sweetness now is it."

Edging toward him, she smoothed her hair from her face. "I only said those things to get Mams out of my room."

"I see." Lafayette rubbed his chin. "So, you callously threw _moi_ to the wolves?"

Smiling sweetly and stepping closer, she answered. "I will smooth it over. I will make sure. . ." She stopped talking, close enough to read his eyes. "Brimstone and hellfire, Lafayette, you ain't even mad. Your only toyin' with me." Exhaling heavily, she rolled her eyes. "Get out! I done told you I ain't got time for your foolishness."

His smile grew so big, his face creasing with merriment until his eyes nearly disappeared. Motioning to her waves of thick brown hair, he arched a brow. "You plannin' on pinning it up?"

Crossing her arms, her eyes bore into him. "Ain't you got someplace else to be?"

Leaning back on his heels, he hitched his thumbs in his vest pockets, "Tell you _qu'elle,_ how about you inform _moi_ as to the theme of this day's war. Thusly, I can prepare _m'_ case for your prosecution."

Uncrossing her arms, she glanced at the door. "That mean you will still help me?"

"Do I not _toujours?_ " He replied, considering the rich plum-colored riding habit she was wearing, topped off with a black, wide-brimmed man's hat. Focusing on the hat, he gnawed on the corner of his mouth, thinking. 'Do not recognize it as Taddy's or mine; she must have thieved it from Gabe's _chambre_. Wonder if'n she is dressin' to attract attention? If'n so, this outfit will do just that.'

"What are you contemplating, Lafe-Sugah?"

Rising from his thoughts, he answered, "you were informed we are attendin' a celebration picnic, not a hunt?"

"I have been." She tilted her head, smiling at him, "but Sugah, I wish to ride to the Barnett's."

His eyebrow arched.

Moving to his side, she turned pleading eyes up to him, "Besides, _Grand Frère_ , I already requested Nelly to be saddled."

Rubbing at his left eye, Lafayette tried not to let a smile escape as he thought. 'So, that was _qu'elle_ her bellowin' was 'bout?'

"Anyway, I cannot comprehend why Mams deems; I must be conveyed in a buggy, along with wearing _that!_ " Joséphine stated, pointing to a lavender-plaid, day dress spread across her unmade canopy bed.

"Same reason she feels I should be attired thus," Lafayette replied, slipping a finger beneath the cravat, loosening it a bit.

"Then let us both disregard her and do as we like."

Smiling, Lafayette shook his head, "Surely, _Petite Sœur_ , you can see that is not the best-laid plan."

With a snort, she again crossed her arms.

"Come now, Jo." He nodded toward her bed, "that is one of your _favori_ dancin' dresses, besides its pale colors accent your skin _magnifiquement_." Snagging her hand, he reeled her close, "I also have clear-cut faith wearin' it, you will not only capture a score of _m' amis_ hearts, while utterly destroy 'em when they are unable to attract yours."

Pulling her hand back, with such force, she almost knocked herself to the floor, Joséphine squalled, " ** _Ta gueule!_** I know you, and I ain't goin' let you charm me into doin' what I do not want!" Her lip curled, a bullish snort bursting from her.

"Now, _Chère._ "

"Hush," she snarled, stomping to the bed, and quick as a red bird her hand darted into a pile of fabric, withdrawing a corset. Rushing him, she unfurled it, right under his nose. "I refuse to spend the day cinched in these cussed stays."

Lafayette fell back several steps, a burn spreading over his body.

Suddenly a fierce toothy smile manifested and Joséphine, dashed to the window, throwing up the sash. As a warm summer breeze blew in, her corset flew out—the white undergarment spinning cartwheels against the bright, blue sky before plummeting out of sight.

Standing with his mouth open, Lafayette thought, ' _Feu de l'enfer_ , ain't the first time I seen _filles_ unmentionables, hell, I even seen 'em on and off the right _filles._ But…' He sidled toward the door, his face a rich shade of crimson. "I could have lived happily, the rest of _m'_ life, without seeing _m'_ _petite sœur's_.'

Turning from the window, Joséphine rushed after him.

He could see her chattering, but the words only buzzed in the air like errant flies.

All of a sudden, she clapped her hands right in his face. "Jerusalem crickets, Lafe, ain't you listenin' to me at all?"

"Uhm, _oui._ "

"Did you hear me sayin' the day is too gorgeous not to ride?"

"I can agree with you there," he answered, feeling the door at his back.

"Then why should I be restrained in that civilized torture device?"

"Uh, well, Jo, all I know is a _mademoiselle_..." he fumbled at the doorknob.

"Please, not you," she clutched his arm, " _Grand_ _Frère_?" She felt her mouth go dry, and she thought. 'Oh, no! Please, not him, too. I do not think I could not stand it if'n, Lafe thinks I need to act more mature, and all, like everyone else, has been sayin'.'

At her obvious desperation, Lafayette pushed past his uneasiness and fast as a tickling breeze; he found it all quite hilarious, unvoiced laughter flamed in his eyes.

Joséphine snorted like a bull at a closed gate, punching him in the arm, and his laughter burst forth in loud brays. " _Zut!_ Lafe! I thought I truly displeased you…and you, you were playin' at one of your dad-gum games. You... You... low-down, four-flushin', yellow _diable!"_

Around his laughter, Lafayette got out, "First you want _m'_ endorsement, then you curse _moi._ _Par Dieu,_ Jo, which is it to be?"

"Out of my way, you, Bilk!" Shoving him clear of her door, she swung it open, declaring. "I will ride Nelly today, and not a word _any_ of you say will sway my mind." Stomping, unladylike, down the navy and burgundy tapestry runner that led to the staircase, she spun, walking backward to shout. "Furthermore, I demand you break off cacklin' at me. I swear, Lafayette Henri Begnoir, _you,_ without a doubt, have the most despicable blasted manners of all Sienna!"

"Manners? Ha! You are _une_ to speak." Lafayette hollered right back, striding after her. That is until he spied Simone's anger contorted face coming up the central staircase with their father plodding after her.

Gulping, " _bordel de merde,_ " Lafayette made a hard turnabout, running for the rear, servant stairs, taking them two at a time, he thought. 'Hope Taddy heeds _m'_ advice. Otherwise, I do not even believe _maladie_ will save 'em from Mams the mood she has worked herself up into this day.'


	7. Chapter FOUR

Chapter Four

A massive cottonwood tree said to be the largest in Cass County dominated the lower drive. Its limbs thick as trees, and by early afternoon its leaves would darken the paddock yard with needed pools of shade.

Hitching posts circled the tree, and at one of them, Sienna’s trainer, Peter stood beside an elegant, dapple gray. His rolled sleeves revealed corded muscles that rippled beneath coal-black skin. He fussily groomed the mare with a practiced ease, believing any horse leaving Sienna should look flawless.

Having traded the brush for a bridle, he cooed, “come on, Nelly, that be a sweet girl,” he slipped it over her head, his gnarled fingers smoothing her long, white forelock. “Good girl.”

Hearing a sound, Peter turned and spotting Lafayette, he raised a hand, calling out in his thick, Kentucky accent, “Mornin’, Lafe Boy.”

Lafayette jumped, throwing a furtive glance at the Great House.

Seeing him do so, Peter shook his head with a smile, knowing Lafayette, or perhaps, a few more of the children had, once more, pushed Simone too far. Petting the mare, he murmured, “day ain’t even hardly begun.”

Keeping one eye on the house, Lafayette trotted along the path that curved from the rear patio and outdoor kitchen to the stables. On reaching the half-wall that separated the yard from the white gravel drive, he hopped down, feeling more at ease for having put a bit of distance between himself and the house.

Angling toward the tree with gravel crunching beneath his boots, he thought, ‘Truth be known, I am damn grateful for Jo’s resolve. As I prefer ridin’ to drivin’ any day.’ However, as he stepped under the tree, his gut twisted like a bag full of snakes. For saddled for him was the three-year-old stallion, Appalachian Blue, a tall, blue-gray dapple horse with flashing eyes and a personality that had earned him the stable name, Cain.

Raising his open palms toward, what he considered the worst mount in their sizable

stable, Lafayette groaned, “Peter?”

A rich, robust laugh rolled from Peter, filling the space between them. “Mister said if’n you went anywheres, you was to take Cain.”

“ _Qu’elle_?”

“He did,” Peter replied.

Scowling at the animal, Lafayette whined, “You must have misunderstood 'em.”

“I did not.”

“ _Pour l'amour de Dieu,_ this bunk-o-beast cannot go to a social. He is as worthless as a saddle with a broken tree,” Lafayette grumbled, his gaze shifting to the barn as he thought. ‘I should go saddle, Coffee.’

Knowing Lafayette enough to know his thoughts, Peter walked over, untied the stallion, and extended the reins. “You will be ridin’ Cain. He needs attention.”

Lafayette’s eyes slanted to the offered reins, then to Peter, who was wearing an expression that dared Lafayette to test him.

Huffing out a snort, Lafayette snatched the reins. “ _Putain d'enfer_! **_Chiant_**!”

“Do not be cursin' your displeasure at me,” Peter responded sharply, folding his muscular arms across his chest. “You rightly know, you are obligated to work stock every bit as much as Gabe or Taddy. ‘Sides, Cain done trampled two slaves, already. When I told Mister, and he says, ‘keep them fools clear of ‘em and have one of the boys work the rough off ‘em.”

Lafayette rolled his eyes.

“Carryin’ on so, do not suit you,” Peter said, uncrossing his arms to lay a hand on Lafayette’s shoulder. “Especially when Mister has done said y’all boys be the beatingest horsemen in the County.”

A twisted dimpled grin, fleetingly, appeared as it was rare for Lafayette to hear, even second hand, praise from his father.

“You fancy knowin' what I told 'em?” Peter asked, sliding his thick body sideways to avoid the stallion’s pawing, front leg.

Spinning the horse, Lafayette grumbled, “Likely as not, you are goin’ to tell _moi_ anyways.”

"Lands sake _,_ if’n you ain’t feelin' downright churlish." Hooking his thumbs in the armholes of his vest, Peter stepped further from the stallion. “Well, I done tolds ‘em, he was powerfully mistaken.”

Lafayette’s eyes pinched.

Like Simone, there was not a day; Peter had not been a part of Lafayette’s life. It was Peter who placed him on his first horse and trained him, all he knew of horses. Moreover, it was Peter who instructed, guiding Lafayette as the years took him from childhood toward adulthood, the same as he had for the other Crowe children.

Within Sienna's confines, Antonio Crowe made it clear he trusted Peter more than any other alive. Their bond of trust was built along the lengthy, weary road of establishing the Sienna Stable line and all it stood for. All the same, they had not begun as friends.

Thomas Crowe had sent Peter with his middle son, Antonio, when he set out, intent to brand his mark on the world. Peter was chosen because, like Antonio, the slave had a passion for horses. Thomas felt the man might be of use to his son, and his foolish dream of breeding a racing line like America had never seen.

Through hard work, calculated risks, and a dose of luck, the pair had done just that. When the Stable Line needed a home, a land grant in Missouri provided the location, and racetrack winnings poured into it, created Antonio Crowe’s estate, Sienna.

Antonio had his dream…a race line like none had seen, considerable wealth, and a fine mansion, yet he still needed someone to share it with. At the Metairie racetrack, he met Gena Lorraine Begnoir-Bueford. She became the true love of his life, even surpassing his horses.

Since leaving Kentucky, Antonio had come a long way, and he knew it was in part to Peter. In gratitude, he freed his friend, giving him the papers for a stallion and five mares, along with his own, and a wallet of money. Peter accepted it all but declared Sienna was where he was needed, where he belonged, and there was nowhere else he desired to be. On the spot, Antonio made him Sienna’s Overseer.

More than a decade later, when Gena Lorraine died, Antonio fled Sienna, dumping the estate’s responsibilities on his trusted friend and Overseer, knowing Peter would guard not just Sienna but all who called it home.

For months on end, Antonio would be away, following the track circuit, racing the Sienna line, and wallowing in his self-pity grief. As the years slipped away, his children turned to Peter for guidance. Significantly, his youngest sons, Lafayette, and Thaddeus, each worming their way so deep into the old trainer’s heart; he often forgot they were not his sons.

Reading sharp hurt in Lafayette’s eyes, Peter whistled low through his missing eyetooth. “Ain’t so bad as all that, Lafe Boy. See, I up and informed Mister, he be wrong. Explained how you boys, all three of you, be the bestest riders in the whole State of Missouri, maybe even the whole South.”

Lafayette’s smile returned, his matching dimples cutting deep. “Blazes! Break off polishin’ _moi._ ” Spinning the stallion again, he jerked Cain to a standstill. “You just do not want to train this _putain_ fiend yourself.” Skittering to the side, he avoided a flying hoof, “You cannot hoodwink _moi_ none.”

Peter’s belly laugh filled the yard, “you have the right of it there.” He laid an arm across Nelly’s saddle seat. “What you think of this here filly? I consider ‘er to be a fine example of our Pacer Line.”

Lafayette mumbled an agreement but was more focused on Cain, as the stallion had a habit of chewing on a person, and he was striving to remain out of reach of the foamy, wet lips.

“Cain there be first-rate, also.”

At this, Lafayette did reply with a rude sounding snort.

“Lafayette!”

“I ain’t got the same faith in ‘em. Furthermore, I deem it ain’t fair, nor right forcin’ em on _moi,_ especially today.”

“If’n you is workin’ up to argue with me, I ain’t havin’ it.” Hearing his name called, Peter waved up to the Great House, where Joséphine stood on the coach step. “Nope, I ain’t havin’ it. You do as you been trained, Lafe Boy, you apply yourself to Cain, and he will turn out fine as cream.”

Lafayette snorted again.

Raising his chin, Peter stared down his nose at Lafayette, “I be gettin’ a strong understandin’ of how you already done got Simone set ‘gainst you this mornin’.”

“How did you know that?!?”

Peter shook his head.

“Well, it was not _m’_ fault.”

“Mmm-hmm, anyways, you take care of that horse.”

“Do not sound like I have a choice.”

“Lafayette…” Peter inhaled, deep furrow lines creasing around the corners of his downturned mouth. “Hellfire, but you and that stallion be a lot alike. You know that?” With a bullish snort of his own, Peter took Nelly’s reins and began walking toward the Great House, except after about twenty steps, he stopped. Stood for a moment, then spun about. “Lafe Boy.”

“ _Qu’elle?”_

“I want you to work the rot out of that animal. I believe in Cain. You do your part right, and Cain will show folks, all the way down the seaboard, how a race should be won. Once he is a champion, he will come back here and throw top-notch foals, further improvin’ this place. You hear me?”

“ _Oui._ I hear you.”

“Another point you can work on is gettin’ those damn cockamamie ideas of livin’ somewhere you do not belong out of your confounded head.”

“They ain’t--”

“You full out know,” Peter barked, cutting him off. “that Kentucky ain’t where you belong. Beginning to think Simone be correct, a wife be what you need to knock them daft, uppity poltickin’ notions right out of you.”

“Peter, you cannot mean--.”

“Done talkin’ with you, I am.”

“Peter??”

Turning on his heel, Peter walked on to where Joséphine waited on him.

Feeling cold clear through, Lafayette thought, ‘If’n he ain’t the third _une_ to throw _mariage_ at _moi_ today _._ Who would think being eighteen could turn everyone against a person so?’ Lafayette stiffened, ‘unless?!’ He spat on the ground, thinking, ‘there best not be any arrangements made with Colonel Barnett!’ His anger dark eyes flicked to the house, “Father can arrange and decree all he likes, but he will find out, I am not a part of Sienna’s stock to negotiate off for better titles and breedin’.’

As these thoughts swirled through him, Cain rammed his head into Lafayette’s back, slamming him forward.

Catching himself, Lafayette spun, snarling. “ _Chiant_!” Popping the reins up and down, he backed the stallion in a circle, “ _Zut,_ behave!” from the corner of his eye, he spotted a slave standing with their mare, Copper Belle.

“Benjamin! Are you plannin’ on facilitating me with this _cheval_ or not?”

Benjamin’s small eyes widened, “No, Sir.”

Lafayette turned darkly toward the much older man.

Benjamin opened his mouth, but no words came out. It only hung open, displaying the large gap where his front teeth once sat; the same gap which caused Benjamin’s words to end in little hisses.

“ _Qu’elle_?"

"Uhm, Mister Peter, he dones tolds me Master says, we all is nots to mess with Cain.”

The horse jumped sideways, stepping on Lafayette.Weary of being abused, he threw the reins over Cain’s head. The second his weight lifted into the stirrup, the stallion leaped forward, spinning with a mule-kick. Gripping tight of the horse’s mane and saddle, Lafayette surged on aboard, yanking Cain up short. “Stand still, you _malheureux_ beast!” Turning back to Benjamin, Lafayette scowled darkly at him. “it appears to _moi_ as if’n you are plannin’ to accompany us.”

Benjamin nodded.

“Do not see why if’n there is _non_ intention of you being of use.”

“Master done tolds Mister Peter it t’wouldn’t be rights for Cain to injures any of Colonel Barnett’s property. So, I is to watch ‘em, once we gets there, and keeps others aways from ‘em.”

“Sounds like Father,” Lafayette grumbled. Suddenly, he smiled warmly at Benjamin. “May I ask you to grant _moi_ a boon?”

“How is that?” Benjamin asked, peeking to where Peter was chatting with Joséphine.

“There is no doubt when I dismount; this beast will take it as a chance to make a damn spectacle of _moi_. Therefore, would you take hold of ‘em while I dismount?"

“I can do that, Mister Lafe.”

“ _Merci,_ ” Lafayette replied, looking down at his hands and back to Benjamin. “ _Mez apologies_ for takin’ _m’_ _tempère_ out on you; I should not have done that.”

Benjamin genuinely smiled, “thank you.”

Unable to remain still, Cain began jittering side to side, and Lafayette set to moving him in tight circles. Just when he had the stallion behaving peacefully, he saw misfortune heading his way in the form of Joséphine.

“You plannin’ on arrivin’ before the picnics over?” She hollered gaily, Nelly flying by, throwing a cloud of dust and rocks into the air.

With a challenging scream, Cain reared, bolting after the mare. Instinctively, Lafayette reined him in.

The stallion half bucked, more concerned with running.

But using a firm, steady hand, Lafayette forced him into a ragged, twitching dogtrot.

The sun had not risen enough to burn off the morning dew and Lafayette jogged beneath the front gate, every filigree curve of the arched banner reading ‘Sienna’ was covered in tiny moisture bubbles, giving the cast iron a frosted look. Beyond the gate, birds sang in the trees thickly lining the road, and a hazy screen of dust hung in the air marking Joséphine’s speedy departure.

“ _Zut_ , this ain’t the game she thinks it is,” Lafayette said. Balling up on the big gray, he tightened his legs, and the horse took off as if launched from a cannon.


	8. Chapter FIVE

Chapter Five

Beneath Lafayette, the white, chat road streamed by faster than Missouri River rapids, and before he thought it possible, Cain was tearing past Joséphine. Spinning the stallion, he slowed him, bringing him in alongside Nelly.

Patting the snorting animal's neck, Lafayette thought, ‘He might have potential at that. ‘Course, why should he not, comin’ from our stable and all?’

While developing his racer line, Antonio Crowe met Reggie McKinnett, who had brought with him, a pair of unique geldings, on moving to America from Scotland. The small horses had initially come from Arabia.

The animals fascinated Antonio, and he shared with Peter all McKinnett had told him regarding the mystical Bedouin horses. In short order, Antonio became enchanted with the idea of adding this breed to his stable line.

With McKinnett’s assistance, a deal was brokered across the Atlantic for six Arabian mares. Boastful with pride, Antonio took them to various champion racing stables. The graceful horses enthralled Estate owners, who also enjoyed teasing Antonio over the high price he had paid for his dainty lil’ ponies _._

Until they realized he was serious about breeding one of his tiny mares to their big Thoroughbred stud. Then their attitudes would change, and they would scold him for purposely endangering such a handsome animal. Nevertheless, he won them over, paid their, often, inflated stud fees, and returned to Sienna with all six mares bearing the titles of proven bloodlines attached to their foal's paperwork.

Antonio and Peter never doubted the hardy Arabians would survive their deliveries, and in the end, they figured to have the last laugh. However, when the foals frolicked in the fields, the way they moved befuddled both men. The more they studied them, the more confused they became. It altogether appeared as if the foal’s front legs were walking while their back legs were quite obviously trotting.

Not willing to give up, they decided the studs had been too big, and Antonio contacted six more stables, breeding the mares to smaller harness racers, only to gain six more healthy, spirited, peculiarly gaited foals. Although, once the first batch reached training age, Antonio and Peter found they had struck gold. The first six were fast, smooth, and sure-footed on any type of track.

From those first foals, three became elegant Pacers, like no others. Each of them able to hold a smooth, long, rocking-chair gait for miles without tiring, with their rider floating along comfortably as if they really were sitting in a rocking chair. The other three grew into relentless, steadfast track racers who, perpetually, crossed finish lines first. The best of them, Boreas Red, became Sienna’s first all-around grand champion.

Traditionally, Kentucky and Tennessee were the homes of the best horses. Although, with each victory, Sienna Stables were overturning this time-worn belief. Consequently, moneyed race men brought their mares to Missouri for breeding, along with purchasing stock to take home.

During these early years, Peter deciphered hereditary traits within a mare and stud that would most likely create a racer or pacer. With their rising demand, especially for the gaited pacers, they realized there was only one option. They needed more mares.

To acquire them quickly, Antonio took on the arduous task of traveling to Arabia. A decision, he never regretted, for in one year, the forty mares he handpicked increased the herd's overall size to what would have otherwise taken decades to achieve.

Thinking on this, Lafayette knew Cain’s flashy, blue-gray dapple would make him a favored stud. Of course, his popularity could only be attained if Cain were schooled in enough etiquette to make him reliable. If not, the big gray’s powerful spirit would have him gelded before the first frost. There would be no exception.

To prevent flawed traits from corrupting future generations, inferior or unmanageable horses were sold, with stallions being gelded first. Which was another reason their line was so valued. For, despite the hot blood flowing in their veins, the horses were not just beautiful, fast, and sure-footed. They were also intelligent, gentle, and safe.

Vigorously clacking the snaffle bit between his teeth, Cain began bobbing his head in protest to the controlled gait. When without warning, he bared his teeth, fully intent on biting Nelly.

Joséphine’s riding crop slashed out, striking the young horse. . . once. . . twice. The blows slashing across his delicate muzzle and splitting skin near his eye.

The young stallion released a terrified squeal, barreling sideways, and with a quick switch of his hips, he set to outright bucking. Each thunderous landing, jarring its way up Lafayette’s spine as they fought a frantic battle that had no rhythm, except for the broken melody of their discordant grunts filling the empty stretch of road.

Entranced, Joséphine took no more notice than she would of a gadfly to Benjamin's arrival on Copper Belle, even though their horses stood close enough to touch.

On hearing the crunch of wheels, Benjamin tore himself from watching the high-rolling stallion just as a carriage came around the bend. Unsure, he nudged Joséphine with the toe of his boot.

She jumped like a spooked toad, whipping about to rip him for his impertinence. Then she too saw the carriage driver setting the brake on the white open-top rig. Watching them, she frowned at the frilly dresses and parasols, “Most likely headed for the picnic,” she glanced toward her brother. “Suppose they will be tellin’ one and all ‘bout this.”

“What you want to do, Miss Joséphine?”

“What can we do? Humph, if’n they do not look like a bunch of dad-gum June bugs by a fire, the way they is squealin’ and hoppin’ ‘about.” Suddenly, she had a thought and spun on Benjamin, “When did you arrive?”

“Right before ‘em,” he replied, nodding toward the carriage.

'Did he see me strike Cain?’ She thought, her heart beating faster. ‘Hells Bells, I hope not, he will run straight to Peter and Peter will report to Father, and... he will ban me from the stable for a spell.'

As a shudder ran through her, the twittering arising from the carriage once more drew her attention. Her mouth pinched, thinking, ‘if'n it ain’t that busy-body Hannah Baker and her insipid, boring brood. Well, they all oughta feel lucky witnessing this, ‘cause there ain’t anyone who can stand on the same dirt with _m' frères_ when it comes to ridin’.'

When a conceited smile bloomed to life on Joséphine’s face, Benjamin leaned over and, in a low, calm tone, asked, “Miss Joséphine, what dids you do to starts this?”

Her first thought was to cuss him for talking so to her. She loathed how the stable slaves tended to speak out like they were equals, blamed their uppish ways on her brothers, who treated them more like pals, than subordinates. Yet, a moment's consideration had her deciding that feigning surprise might be better, and she tittered. “My goodness, Benjamin, what can you be jabberin’ on about?”

The corners of Benjamin’s mouth raised the tiniest bit. “You rightly knows whats I be askin’? And, if’n Mister Lafayette hits the dirt…” He nodded toward the spinning, mule-kicking stallion. “I sure would nots wants to be in your skin.”

By slow degrees, Cain wore down, and when he stood puffing in the middle of the shifting white road dust. Lafayette leapt from the saddle, his hands carefully examining the jittery horse and adjusting the shaken tack. He did all this without looking at Joséphine. Not even when he swept his thick, shoulder-length hair from his face did he consider her. But, once he was back in the saddle, his dark eyes turned her way.

His gaze was so chilling, so near hatred, that she gasped, her air catching in her lungs.

“Likes I said, Miss Joséphine, I’s would nots wants to be you,” Benjamin whispered, edging Copper Belle backward.

Lafayette’s eyes pivoted toward the movement, noting it was only Benjamin; they locked back on Joséphine like those of a winter-starved coyote. “If'n you are wantin’ to eradicate _moi,_ why not simply blow _m’_ fuckin' head off? Be a sight easier; would it not?”

“Now, Lafe-Sugah--”

“Do not Sugah _moi,_ ” he barked, seizing her wrist and twisting her to him. “If’n you were not a _fille,_ I would knock your _imbécile_ head off. Difficulty is, I am still tempted.” Inhaling deep, he let the air out in a hiss. “Fortunately...for both of’n us, I have the wherewithal to restrain _mon_ self.” His gaze slid to his hand, clenched about her wrist, and he flung it from him. “Damnation, if’n this _cheval,_ is ruined, in any way, it is on your infernal head.”

Leaning to the side, he spat several times, clearing his mouth of grit. His eyes, though, remained on his sister, who was intently studying her mare’s mane. “ _Jésus a pleuré_ , Jo, did you lose your ever-lovin’ mind? _Qu’elle diable_ came over you? He may no longer run next to other horses, _qu’elle_ sort of race _cheval_ would he be then?”

Rubbing her wrist, Joséphine scurried to find the exact words to placate him.

“Good morning to you, Mister Crowe. I must say what an absolutely wonderful display of horsemanship.”

At last sighting, the approaching carriage, Lafayette’s eyes widened, and his tone became even colder, “You could not mention we were not alone.”

“When did you give me a chance?”

His face twisted.

Reading his indecision, Joséphine cooed, “ _Grand_ _Frère_ \-- _.”_

“Cease.”

“It was a mistake, I did--”

"I said, stop. I do not want to hear you.”

"That ain’t polite."

"I do not give a coon's tail for _qu’elle_ is polite. _Ferme t **a gueule!**_ **"**

Joséphine sucked in her lower lip, her eyes narrowing.

The carriage was nearly upon them. Uncertainty flooded Lafayette’s face, and then it was gone. “Benjamin, I am assignin’ you to escort ‘er to the picnic.”

Joséphine plucked at Nelly’s silver mane, thinking, ‘my always mistakes amuse Lafe…how is this so different?’

Turning Cain, Lafayette beamed at the carriage full of ladies while growling through his teeth. “If’n one thing goes wrong, Benjamin, I will hold you accountable. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir, Mister Lafayette, yes sir.”

“Then get her out of _m’_ sight,” Lafayette responded, riding to greet their neighbor.

“Why, Mrs. Baker, how _merveilleux_ to see y’all this morning.”

‘Did he just dismiss me?” Joséphine thought, “Me! How dare he?’ Her lips narrowed to a white line. ‘Why did they have to come along, right when I needed to calm ‘em??’ And how dare he speak to me so and ride off like nothing was said.'

Sitting straighter in the saddle, she straightened her shoulders, preparing to call him back; in that moment, Benjamin brushed his fingertips across her sleeve.

She nailed him with a look like he had burned her on purpose.

Pulling his hand back, he smiled benignly, “Comes nows, Miss Joséphine, you do not wants to argues with 'em. You know you do not. Let us just rides on to the social.” Then taking hold of Nelly’s headstall, he urged the mare to follow.

Staring back, over her shoulder, at her brother, Joséphine allowed herself to be led a distance, when with a snort, she kicked Nelly, breaking free, and forcing Benjamin to chase after her.


	9. Chapter SIX

Chapter Six

“ _Bonjour,_ _Madame_ Baker,” Lafayette said, bowing to the ladies while keeping a tight rein on Cain, lest he chose to cause further trouble.

“I have heard tell how you Crowes are superb equestrians. But, my, my, how you have made a lifetime devotee of me. Why, sir, observin’ you, I would say, you must be the best of your family.”

“ _Merci…_ thank you for the _gracieux_ compliments, although it ain’t nothing to speak of.”

“You are far too modest,” Mrs. Baker replied.

Hannah Baker was a respected family matriarch, her husband being a buyer and seller of hemp crops. She was rail thin with eyes that sat a bit too close together, and when she strained her neck forward to better see, those milky blue eyes narrowed, giving her the appearance of a blinking bird. “Ho now, is that not your sister, Josephine ridin’ on?”

Hoping his irritation did not show, Lafayette rolled out a dependable, well-tested, flirtatious smile. “ _Oui,_ _Madame_ , and I do pray; I was not too forward instructin’ our _garçon_ to ride on with Joséphine, as I hoped _vous_ would sanction _moi_ the _honneur_ of escortin’ _vous_?”

Her attention switched to him.

“That, of course,” he lowered his silky black lashes, his smile becoming enticing, “depends if’n _vous_ would wish to bear _m’_ boorish camaraderie?”

“No. I mean, yes, I mean...” Mrs. Baker laid a hand to her chest, her mouth making a motion that one could call a flinch. “Mister Crowe, we would take much pleasure in your escort.”

Leaning closer, Lafayette unveiled a slow smile, “Then I shall attend you.”

Hannah Baker flushed a ripe berry red and flicked her team into motion, thinking, ‘Here, I am married to a loving man and a mother to a gaggle of girls, and he has me feeling like I am a mere girl, myself.’ Peeking at him, she bit back a smile, ‘married or not, I simply, am unable to recall a gentleman more becomin’.’

Lafayette had settled Cain into a smooth, slow trot, considering his actions, he thought. ‘ _Zut!_ I should have realized it was rude to have Jo ride on without passin’ a word of greetin’. _Au contraire,_ if’n I had allowed her to remain...' His nostrils flared, 'Anyways, it appears _m’_ current task is to keep _Mme._ Baker suitably distracted, so she does not contemplate Jo.'

Coughing softly, Lafayette purred in a smooth velvet burr, “ _Mme._ Baker, I ain’t seen any of _vous_ since Harrisonville’s summer fair. _Vous_ simply must inform _moi_ how _vous_ _belle fleurs_ have been.” As he spoke, his gaze shifted from Mrs. Baker to each of her daughters; his brown eyes lingering just long enough for each to feel the dimpled smile was meant for her alone.

None of her girls were yet sixteen, and he knew they would be permitted to do exceedingly little at the picnic. Still, their glowing faces displayed how elated they were to be attending. “I must say, each of _vous_ is more charmingly pleasin’ than any Orleans belle, I ever saw.” Returning to their mother, his smile warmed, “and _Madame,_ the nightshade _bleu_ of your bonnet has your eyes shinin’ brighter than a summer sky.”

Feeling her face flushing, Mrs. Baker straightened the reins in her hands, searching for a mundane topic to distract from his silky words. “Why, thank you, Mister Crowe. I do fear I had our poor Suzie in a frenzy all morning. At one point, I believe she had every sad iron on the place in the fire, trying to get these old dresses pressed. Yet, the overall outcome turned out functional if I judge your praise as worthwhile.” She gave her dress a dismissive flip with her bony hand.

“Functional? _Chère_ , the attire of the shopkeeper, is functional. _Vous_ _filles_ are exquisite as summer roses. _Non,_ _Chère_ , do not under esteem your _filles_ , nor your _belle_ self.” Lafayette said, laying a bold, almost sultry gaze upon her.

A blotchy red blush spread from Mrs. Baker’s cheeks on down her neck. Peering from the corner of her eye, she thought, ‘Why he is quite the boldfaced rogue. I am old enough to be his mother.’ Afraid her voice would tremor if she spoke, they rode along in silence until, at last, she cleared her throat. “Mister Crowe, you ought ’en be speaking to me with such honey-filled words.”

In a tone offering an unspoken challenge, he replied, “As _vous_ say, _Madame_.”

“I do say!” She replied, giving him a steely glare, flicking the reins hard. “You are being terrible, and I trust you know you are!”

Nodding at her admonishment, Lafayette set Cain into an easygoing diagonal gait to match her faster speed.

A mile down the lane, Mrs. Baker snuck a peek at him. Riding along upon his mincing gray stallion, he resembled a dashing, romantic knight who had pranced off the pages of a storybook, except for his cheerless expression. Guilt tugged at her, ‘Maybe, I should not have been so sharp with him.’ Once more, clearing her throat, she looked his way. “Then again, Mister Crowe, you are absolutely charming, and I do trust the young ladies will be flocking about you in droves today.”

Even as he strived to appear rebuked, an impish grin played at the corners of his mouth.

Hannah Baker's pale blue eyes widened until they looked like china plates. ‘Was he only counterfeiting shame?’ She shifted on her seat to better see him, and at the sheer amusement taking over his expression, she laughed. “I must inform your father, next time I see him, what a downright scoundrel you are.”

 _“Moi, vous_ jest.” Lafayette’s amusement wrapped about his voice. “Why all the other _mesdemoiselles_ claim I am as luscious as strawberry wine.”

Winking at him, she answered, “I am fairly certain they do.”

Cain whipped his tail, champing at the bit, much to Lafayette’s annoyance.

“Mister Crowe,” Her eyes flitted to the agitated stallion. “I do fear my chicks, and I am running a wee bit late. There is no reason for you to be so. You should ride on.”

Kicking Cain hard, with his off leg, to straighten the animal out, he smoothly replied. “Why _Madame_ , _mesdemoiselles_ are by no means ever considered tardy. And I distinctly would not be the _monsieur m’_ Father believes me to be, if’n I even contemplated leavin’ _vous_ unattended.”

“Thank you.” She beamed at him, “Thank you, for I must admit, I feel better having you here. Traveling alone, I just could not seem to stop throwing vigilant looks over my shoulder. I should have had Charlie drive us. For you see, Mr. Baker is away in St. Louis on business. But, Charlie, well, he acts as if I do not have a thought in my head. I simply was not in the mood for his foolishness. Besides, with you here, well, I feel--.” She stopped herself, unsure where she was going, yet fully aware her next words would not sound particularly matronly.

Lafayette moved his attention to the girls at her apparent unease, finding the two eldest, studying him with eyes that betrayed their thoughts as being far from pure. Arching a brow, he released a crooked grin, and the pair dove behind their fans, erupting in uproarious giggles.

Glancing over her shoulder to see what set them off, Mrs. Baker smiled, knowing it must have been their escort. “Mister Crowe, I do not wish you to imagine me ungrateful. I sincerely appreciate your selfless task of escortin’ us.” Her eyes flicked to him, “Truth is, ever since I got out here on the road, I have felt a bit like a hen trapped outside the coop. Still, my pride would not let me return for Charlie, for he would hold it over me, forevermore.”

“Worry _non_ more _Madame_ , I shall guide _vous_ right to Colonel Barnett's front steps,” Lafayette replied, kicking Cain, again, on his offside.

As they glided around a wooded curve, Mrs. Baker put pressure on the brake while speaking to her team, and they began the descent to the valley floor. At the bottom of the corkscrew road, she exhaled with a shaky laugh. “I declare that brought me right back to my girlhood. Oh, how I would tremble when I saw Father set the brake and knew we would be going down a grade. These Missouri hills all seemed so impassable and dangerous.”

Lafayette nodded along politely. However, he could not fathom any part of his State being impassable. The broken-down mountains, thick forests, and green valleys were the only home he had ever known. There had been times, he and his brothers had worked treacherous loads on steep grades. Still, they had not scared him, and never had he been unable to go where he wanted.

“Ah-ha, Mister Crowe, I am acquainted with that particular smile.” Mrs. Baker said, chuckling with a trill, to cover her annoyance, “You, my dear, are patronizing me.”

Lafayette stiffened, turning on her, “ _Madame_ , I would do _non_ such thing.”

“That so?” She asked, her voice a touch tight. “Were you not nodding in agreement while pondering else wise?”

“Well,” the corners of his mouth turned up guiltily, “when _vous_ put it that way.”

“I understand, Mr. Crowe; you were born here in this wilderness.”

“Well, raised here.”

She turned surprised to him.

Grinning, he winked. “See, I was born on Royal Street in New Orleans but brought home, here to Missouri.”

“I thought all of you, Crowes, were Missourians.”

The humor fell from his face. “I am a Missourian.”

She nodded, realizing she had poked a tender spot without meaning too. “Yes, you are. As I was sayin’, this State is a part of you. So, how, in truth, could you ever understand what I described?” She waved off his response. “Do not fret. I am not chidin’ you, not seriously, anyway.”

Seeing him nod briskly, she smiled, going on with a small laugh, “What you do not realize is when my father brought us here, this land was untamed. I can still distinctly recall how dark and, at times, scary it was. The few roads that existed were not much more than Indian trails. We had to force our way through trees, brambles, and vines every thorny inch of the way.”

Lafayette’s mind had stilled, and he was leaning toward her, his face rapt with attention.

“Oh, my, my, and the towns.” She laughed, “oh, the towns, you should have seen them. If they had two buildings, even if they were shacks, the men called them a town. Times are I can still see my mother crying each night, wanting desperately to return to Baltimore.”

Lafayette openly stared at the genteel lady; he knew her people came from pioneer stock. However, to him, she had always been a parlor flower. As a result, this new image of her was intriguing.

“Still, despite the hardships, which were many, I fell deeply in love with this wild, untamed, marvelous land.” She smiled at the trees covered in five-leaf ivy. “If only you could have seen it then. Why, from the top of a hill, I would look out at a deep, green, never-ending blanket of trees. It breaks my heart, so many have fallen to the ax.” She smiled at Lafayette, the memories adding a warm glow to her face. “It really was such indescribable beauty.”

Surrounded as they were by the rich, earthy smell of the woods, Lafayette tried to imagine what she was describing, and turning his eyes to the far ridgeline; he studied the broken patches in the trees. "Soon, the green will fade, and the ridges will be dappled in red and gold; everyone rambles on about how _merveilleux_ autumn is. For _mon_ part, I like the green.” His gaze became more distant, “Whenever I think of _m’_ _maison_ , it is how green it all is. However, to think it was more so, well, I would like to have seen those long, unbroken canopies. I have read books on foreign lands; many of 'em declare Ireland as being so green that it is called the Emerald Isle. Wonder how our Missouri compares?”

Mrs. Baker held her tongue, discreetly watching him, ‘there is a bit of a dreamer in this one.’ She thought, ‘would not have supposed that.’

“To _moi_ , Missouri, with its forests, rolling fields, and lush basins, is more precious than any jewel. Got _moi_ a notion, since folks do not leave Missouri to migrate elsewhere, _qu’elle_ we have must be more exquisite than Ireland’s fabled beauty.” Coming back to himself, a touch of red sprung to his cheeks as he realized he was voicing his private thoughts.


	10. Chapter SEVEN

Chapter Seven

Mrs. Baker drove in silence, allowing Lafayette to collect himself where he rode ahead of them on the narrowing road. Discreetly watching him, she thought, ‘it is nice garnering such insight into this teasing, young man. I think it would be mighty enjoyable to converse further in this way.’ Tilting her head, she took in his straight back and broad shoulders. “Nonetheless, he most assuredly will avoid such talk, as he declares himself a man of Missouri, and like the others, has been trained dreaming is for the weak-minded, interfering with the day's labors.”

A quick jolt went through her, and she glanced back at her girls, ‘Hmmm, now that is a thought, Betsy will be sixteen this October. Let me see . . . he is Antonio’s third, no, his second son, which should put him right around eighteen. My, my if’n he would not make Betsy a fine husband. When Andrew returns from St. Louis, I shall send ‘em to visit with Antonio.’ She nodded, flicking the reins, ‘could not hurt, in the least, to see if arrangements are yet in place.’

Trying to cover his earlier talk, Lafayette said, a bit too loudly. “Why look it is Colonel Barnett’s gates.”

As her team trotted through the handsomely constructed stone gate, Mrs.Baker read aloud, “Barnett Farm.”

The words were hewn into a rough-cut log that looked quite out of place hanging from the gate's stone arch. Yet, the slab was a reminder to all that this prosperous family had once lived in a meager one-room cabin, upon a small plot of land, which lay buried within the immense acreage they had amassed.

The Barnetts had settled in Missouri when Hannah’s father was still a child in Maryland. They came when all was uncharted, sharing meals with Sac, Fox, and Oto Indians. It had been the Barnett clan who greeted the earliest settlers and assisted others in cultivating Missouri into the gracious State it had become. Therefore, when the Barnett’s hosted a social, households traveled from the State's length and breadth to attend as the family was considered pioneer royalty.

The drive leading to their house was spacious enough for carriages to pass each other comfortably as it wound its way through fields of tall, green corn that would soon be harvested for its golden crop.

Looking down each long, long row that stretched away to the horizon, Lafayette could see the hours of exhaustive, backbreaking labor wrapped up in the crop from spring through fall. ‘ _Par Dieu,_ it makes me twice as thankful Father chose to breed horses as a livelihood. Ain’t _non_ way I have the patience to be a farmer. Cannot imagine livin’ _m’_ life by the seasons, do not deem I could even stand marryin’ a farmer’s daughter as most assuredly our temperaments would differ too greatly.’

As the fields fell away, a prodigious red house loomed into view, towering against the horizon, three-stories high, and for all its height, it looked overtly squat in the middle of its precisely manicured lawn. In essence, it would have been outright ugly if it were not so cleverly trimmed with sculpted porticos, columns, and arches, all of which appeared to have been plucked straight from the Roman countryside.

Currently, standing before the home like the Roman Emperor he was named for, Colonel Octavius Barnett beamed health and happiness as he warmly greeted his arriving guests.

Steering her carriage into the teardrop drive, Mrs. Baker waved cheerfully to him.

“ _Mme._ Baker, I am most grateful, I was afforded the opportunity to travel with such flawless Missouri roses.” Kissing his fingertips, Lafayette waved butterfly kisses to the young Baker girls. “By _non_ means has there ever been a truer bouquet.”

The girls giggled, waving back.

Edging Cain closer, he took Mrs. Baker’s hand, “Your daughters do great _honneur_ to your own _beauté,_ ” he said, brushing his lips across the back of her gloved hand. Releasing her, he waved a final farewell. “ _Au revoir,_ a _bonne_ day to y’all.”

"Magnificent mornin’ is it not, Lafayette?" Colonel Barnett called, gathering Lafayette’s attention.

“It is at that, and _Bonjour,_ Colonel Barnett.”

"Tarnation, Son, that is one impressive stallion."

" _Merci_ ," Lafayette replied as Cain pawed the raked gravel, sending rocks flying. " _Mes excuses_ ; he is awfully headstrong."

"Can he run?"

"Like the wind." Lafayette beamed. "Peter and Taddy are of a mind; he may be faster than Boreas."

Cain snorted, bobbing his head.

"Seems he agrees," the Colonel said with a laugh, his eyes roaming over the muscled gray. "Y'all consider gelding ‘em; you have your father contact me first. This one, I may just offer 'em enough to sway his mindset about not sellin’ stallions."

Lafayette replied, a teasing spark in his eyes, "Long as I am allowed to witness the negotiations."

"I would make sure of it, Son. It is grand to have you here. I greeted Joséphine earlier. Shall I expect you Crowes to dribble in the rest of the mornin’?"

Lafayette shook his head, "I regret to say I will be the last."

"Then, Antonio will not be attendin’?"

"He sends his apologies."

"What of your brothers?"

"Gabe is away on business.”

The Colonel nodded knowingly, “worthy man, that brother of yours.”

“ _Merci.”_

“What of Taddy?”

“He has not yet recovered from _maladie_."

"That is unfortunate."

Lafayette nodded curtly.

"Missed ‘em at the gatherings this season. He sure knows how to stir up excitement. I will have Mother add him to our prayers."

“ _Merci beaucoup_.”

Roughing his hands together, the Colonel dug up a smile, “He will come ‘round, you will see.”

“Most certainly, he will.”

The Colonel nodded, his smile brightening, "well, I am pleased you are here.” He chuckled, “and I am positive my Elizabeth will feel the same. Make sure to speak with ‘er."

"That I will,” Lafayette replied, producing a playful salute; he spun Cain, trotting down to the stables.

Despite the mention of Elizabeth, Lafayette still felt in high spirits from escorting Mrs. Baker. Thinking on it, he smiled, for he gained immense pleasure in charming ladies. No matter their age. Not in the way, most people would suppose; he just naturally cottoned to making a lady feel exceptional and attractive. Truth be told, he was in such an improved mood; he found he was no longer upset with Joséphine.

On entering the stable yard, Benjamin rushed to his side. “Master Lafe, I’s ready to take Cain from you.”

Winking, Lafayette replied in a hushed tone, “I would say he has worn himself down.” Yet no sooner did he shift to dismount, then Cain switched his hip, preparing to conduct a feat of deviltry.

Snatching the horse’s ear, Benjamin gave it a sharp twist, distracting the stallion, and taking advantage of his quick thinking; Lafayette hopped down.

“ _Merci beaucoup_.” He patted Benjamin’s shoulder, “Where is Jo?”

“She longs gone, Master Lafe.”

“Gone where?”

Benjamin pointed toward the multiple groupings on the Barnett’s lawn, “up there.”

“Without an escort?!” Lafayette’s smile became a flat line, and he rubbed the stallion’s neck, dislodging dried sweat. “ _Zut!_ Why did she not await _m’_ arrival?”

“Ain’t no way I could of made her, Master Lafe,” Benjamin replied, and touching Lafayette’s arm, he pointed toward a shady spot, where Copper Belle stood with her head hanging in exhaustion. “Master Lafe, I hads to push ol’ Belle just to keeps Mz. Joséphine in sight. I hads to push her all the ways here, I surely dids.”

Lafayette’s jaw clenched; neither horse showed signs of wishing to move another inch. ‘That ride was close to ten miles.’ He thought, his anger returning. ‘She damn-well knows better. _Qu’elle_ in Hades has gotten into her?’

"How did Cain do alls on owns?"

“He is headstrong to be sure,” Lafayette replied, loosening the saddle girth strap. “Still, I got an inkling of what Peter sees in ‘em.”

“What I’s sees is a devil.”

Lafayette laughed warmly, “Perhaps. Still, if’n we can get him under control, I am in concurrence with Peter; he is goin’ to tear the tracks up.”

Benjamin shook his head, woefully, “all I knows is, he frightfully spooks me, Master Lafe.”

Pulling the girth strap free, Lafayette turned on Benjamin. “Why in the hell are you addressin’ _moi_ as Master? You rightly know, I do not cotton to it?”

“I knows yuse don't, but--”

“But nothing.” Lafayette snapped, “Why the hell are you doin’ it?”

“Mz. Simone, she done tolds me if'n she founds out, I did nots show the utmost respect whiles I here.” Benjamin cast his eyes down. “Well, she said she woulds have strips peeled from my back.”

“ _Qu’elle?!”_ Lafayette hissed, his fist clenching about the wide, damp leather strap in his hand. “Ain’t _jamais_ been a whip used on Sienna.” Recalling crisscrossed scars he had seen on negro’s at sales, a wave of disgust ran through him, and abruptly, the saddle cinch lying across his palm felt grotesque.

“That be whats Web tolds me when I’s spoke with ‘em.”

“He was correct and ain’t a soul goin’ to take a whip to you. Not ever! You have _m’_ word. Besides, you are a part of Sienna, and I would protect you from anyone, absolutely anyone, who thought to lay a hand on you.”

Benjamin looked up, and never had Lafayette seen such disgrace in a person’s eyes. “Yes, Sir. I knows I's a part of Sienna.” The older man’s Adam’s apple bobbed vigorously. “Thing is Mister Lafe that justs be a fancy way of sayin’ I’s a slave, which...” he paused, his tongue darting across his lips. “makes yuse my Master.”

Lafayette took a step back; Benjamin’s debasing honesty augmenting his already failing belief in their peculiar institution. Biting his lip, he reached for the saddle.

“Do nots makes us both looks bad, Master Lafe.”

Lafayette’s eyes flicked to Benjamin.

“I shoulds be the one unsaddlin’ this horse, and yuse knows it.”

Lowering his hands, Lafayette coughed, a rushing taste of bile choking him with the disgusting truth. Unable to speak, he stepped away with a nod but thought. ‘This is a conversation, which has been damn long overdue between Father and _moi_. He might have raised _moi_ to be a slave owner, but the whole fuckin’ institution makes _moi_ ill. Why can we not free our slaves, offer those who wish to remain an honest day’s wage? _Feu de l'enfer_ , ain’t like we cannot afford the damn coin.’

Taking a breath, he scanned the other men in the stable yard. ‘This, though, is not the day for such abolitionist views. If’n I make a single improper statement...’ His eyes darted to the top buttonhole of the men nearest him, searching for a loop of hemp.

The loop was the insignia of the Blue Lodges and Senator Atchison’s Secret Brotherhood. Both groups were compiled from the hottest firebrands in Missouri. Men who felt slavery was not only their State right but their God-given one, and to them, violence, even extreme violence was perfectly acceptable in the name of ‘the Cause.’

Whereas, feeling they were true Southerners, they were prepared to fight to protect their property, even if it meant the destruction of the Union. For them, there was no middle ground, and tales spread wildly regarding their violent tendencies. Even how a few had turned on their kin. To them, a person was either with them or against them. If they judged a person to be against, then so too was their entire family, for clearly, they were not true Southerners, but insurgents who should be forcibly expelled from the State.

Seeing no loops, Lafayette breathed easier, but his mind was in turmoil thinking. ‘Those damn hemp wearers will be on _moi_ quicker than a pup on a hunk of meat if’n they feel I am speakin’ out of turn.’ A chill ran over him, ‘I loathe admittin’ it, but the fear Mams instilled in Benjamin was the best damn warnin’ she could have sent along for _moi._ ’

“Yuse all rights, Master Lafe? You look likes the devil done stepped on yuse shadow.”

“I am fine,” Lafayette replied, removing his riding gloves. “And, Benjamin, your words do not anger _moi_.” He passed Benjamin a gentle smile that tremored with shame, “ _mes apologies_.” He shifted his eyes from the quiet black man, “ _mes apologies_ for just everything.”

Cocking his head to the side, Benjamin tried to understand Lafayette’s words as he watched the young Crowe beat dust from his clothes with his riding gloves.


	11. Chapter EIGHT

Chapter Eight

Passing through the stable gate, Lafayette spotted Orville Riggs riding up.

Even though the Riggs had a smaller plantation, they still ranked among the slave owners of Cass County. Orville Eugene was their youngest son, and Lafayette had known him since he was a boy. Built like a mountain, boisterous, noisy, and a good one to have by your side, for Orville would back a pal, no matter what the cost to himself. He had even done so a few times for Lafayette; the only difficulty was, Orville was a qualified yacker. He could talk a group of church ladies to a standstill; Lafayette had also seen him do this on more than one occasion.

Extending his long legs, Lafayette headed for the cobblestone path leading to the house, hoping to get out of sight before being noticed. It was not that he disliked Orville, not by any means; he merely was not in the mood to gab.

“Crowe!” Orville boomed, his voice filling the paddock as he leapt down from his brown mare before she came to a halt. “Hey, Lafayette holds up.”

A strong desire to wilt and stomp his feet like a child coursed through Lafayette; instead, he dutifully shuffled to a halt.

“Boy!” Orville shouted, waving over a scrawny slave covered in a thick layer of dust that had colored his exposed skin to a powdery gray.

“Here, takes my gal,” Orville ordered, handing over his mare and barking directives.

Absent-mindedly, Lafayette walked around in a circle, running his tongue across his front teeth, and doing so, he loosened more road grit, and with a grunt, he stepped to the fence, spitting repeatedly. Then rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, where the cravat was starting to chaff, he tore it off. ‘Damnation, that feels better.’ He thought, taking a big breath and then another. ‘Feels like I can breathe for the first time since Mams tied the cursed thing ‘round _m’_ neck.’ Whistling, he called, “Benjamin, come here, _s’il vous plaît._ ”

Leading Cain, Benjamin walked up.

“Shove this damn hangman’s noose somewhere,” Lafayette said, knowing he had a good chance of incurring Mams ire later and willing to risk it. “Also, you make certain; you attend the negro barbeque the Colonel’s hosting. Ain’t any reason you should not enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you,” Benjamin answered. “What abouts Cain here?”

“When you finish with’ em, tie ‘em short to that far tree and...” Lafayette leaned into the fence, whispering, “Anyone fool ‘nuff to mess with ’em, deserves what Cain has to share.”

Benjamin chuckled, “Uhm, here comes Mister Riggs.”

Lumbering over with a big grin, Orville punched Lafayette in the shoulder with one of his massive paws, sending Lafayette sidewinding. “Appreciate ya waitin’ on me.”

Catching and righting himself, Lafayette recalled how Orville was also like an overzealous dog, consistently mauling a person with his enthusiastic affection and plastering on a tight smile, replied. “Think nothing of it.”

“Tarnation, Lafayette, must be more than two months since I seen ya.”

“Take you at your word. Now, shall we?” Lafayette replied, walking again for the path leading to the Barnett home, and the picnic spread across the lower lawns.

“Hey, now, hold up." Orville barked, snagging hold of Lafayette, and turning him toward the side yard. "Ain’t that a passel of the boys jawin’ over there?”

Lafayette nodded in agreement, thinking, ‘appears they are havin’ a heated discussion. _Une,_ I would not mind avoidin’.’

Before he could put together a diplomatic way of informing Orville of this, the man was walking that way and propelling Lafayette along with him, cheering, “Well, damnation, let us get a wiggle on and join 'em.”

Breaking free, Lafayette laid a dark glare on Orville, his neck cracking sharply as he rolled it side-to-side.

“Pawin’ ya too much again, ain’t I?”

“A might.”

“Ma chides me for it; she says I am too big to be pushin’ others ‘round.”

Lafayette arched brow, “ _qu’elle_ do you think?”

Orville shrugged his massive shoulders, grinning incomfortably, “Suspect she is right.”

“I suspect so also.”

He shrugged again, “Well, come on, anyways,” and took off for the group of men.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Lafayette let his feet drag him along in Orville’s wake and, with a shake of his head, grouched, “she _is_ right.”

As they neared, a strident voice could be heard saying, “Why I tell you, we ought not to put up with any damnable Northern trash pushin’ us around.”

“Ya are right on the cog!” Orville shouted. “We should bash their heads in for tryin’ to rule over us with their damn lickfinger Republican politics.” His words barreled across the men, turning them in his direction and, consequently, Lafayette’s, too.

Among the group, Lafayette counted several hemp loops bouncing jubilantly in buttonholes, and his stomach turned cold.

Stepping out from the crowd, Rance McGreen said, “Why Orville, glad to hear the Lord blessed ya with a heapin’ of good sense.”

Rance was a tall, rawboned man whose store-bought clothes set him apart from the others in their tailored suits. Likewise, he was a mite, older than the collection of wealthy men’s sons surrounding him. Although he was known for his frankness and well-liked for it. “Ya heard, 'bout me runnin' into one of their damn meddlesome patrols?

“I have not.” Orville said, “How did it go?”

“They had stones.” Rance nodded, his salt and pepper hair swaying with the movement. “I will give ’em that. Still, when they all set to questionin' me about my doings,” Rance grinned, “I showed ‘em I had bigger stones.”

There was a round of coarse laughter, and Orville knocked Rance heartily across the shoulders. “Would have liked to have been there to wallop ‘em with ya.”

Plowing on through the crowd, Orville continued glad handling those he knew in greeting.

While Lafayette settled back into his heels, slipping his thumbs in his vest pockets, and when he saw Rance headed his way, he hefted out a hard sigh.

In the past, Rance rarely attended socials. He was a farmer by trade and worked his land himself. He was proud of all he had accomplished, without being beholding to another man’s labor, not even a slave. However, that had not stopped a band of Freestaters from burning him out.

Enraged, Rance had thrown down his scythe and picked up a revolver, rapidly earning a reputation for his aggressive, bloody treatment of Kansans. Given a chance, he was proud to tell stories of being one of the eight hundred who made up Senator Atchison’s Posse back in ’56, when Atchison determined to right the scales of justice by burning Lawrence.

All the Posse wound up doing was stirring Jim Lane, James Montgomery, and their ilk up like a kicked hornet’s nest, making them so humming mad, they swarmed the border, reaping vengeance without a care for a person's age, politics, or if they had ever gone border patrolling.

“Good Day, Crowe,” Rance called. “Your elder brother goin’ to be makin’ a showin’?"

“Since I ain't Gabe's fuckin’ keeper, I do not deem how I am supposed to know that."

“Oh…” Rance looked down, scratched at the side of his jaw, and looked up. "How ‘bout when ya see 'em, ya tell 'em, I asked after 'em?"

“I am of the mind, you might see _m_ _’ Frere_ afore _moi.”_

Rance’s gray eyes sharpened, “How is that?”

Appraising the man’s sun-leathered face, Lafayette could not see any hidden secrets, and pushing forth an apathetic grin, he replied. “Hey, Rance, _mes apologies. Mon tempère_ is on a short roped when it comes to Gabe’s scarcity ‘round Sienna, just damn tired of ‘em leavin’ a heavier share of work behind for _moi_.” Presenting his hand, Lafayette unfurled a warm smile. “I will tell ‘em you asked after ‘em.”

Gripping his hand tight, Rance returned a perfunctory smile that barely moved his thick mustache. Releasing Lafayette, he left for the high-spirited conversation without another word.

Between the warmongering and Rance searching for his elder brother, Lafayette's guts felt like he had downed a bottle of cheap redeye. Taking a deep breath, he told himself, 'you ain’t doin’ the best of keepin’ it all together.'

“Good Day, Sir. Are you not Lafayette Crowe?”

Squaring his shoulders, Lafayette turned and before him stood a stranger, short in stature, yet impeccably attired. Extending his hand, he drawled. “ _Bonjour, Monsieur_ , I am. However, you seem to have _moi_ at a disadvantage as _vous_ are acquainted with _moi_ , and I cannot say the same of _vous_.”

“Skye Naylor of Charleston, my cousins, the Sawyers of Clay County are graciously hostin’ my visit to your parts.” He hitched a thumb toward the others. “Asked your name when I saw you ride in on that fine piece of horseflesh. It is a pleasure to meet you. For even as far away as my home, in the great State of South Carolina, the Crowe name is well-known.” While speaking, Naylor puffed out his chest like a bandy rooster, inching ever closer to Lafayette.

His contrivances to appear larger than he was forced Lafayette to restrain a chuckle. Standing a touch over six feet, Lafayette towered over most men, and such maneuverings had become commonplace. Still, there were times, they struck him as humorous, and with a bit of mirth bubbling in his veins, he felt much more like his self. Releasing his famous dimpled smile, he replied, “ _Merci…_ thank you _, M._ Naylor, it is exceedingly pleasant to make your acquaintance. I do hope _vous visite_ in _m’_ State has been enjoyable.”

“Why yes, yes, it has. The hunting and barbeques have been superb.” Naylor glanced toward the stable. “I would like to know, Mr. Crowe, if I might call upon you for the purpose of purchasin’ an animal or two?”

“ _Mon_ father is in charge of sales, although, I am positive he would be pleased to speak further with _vous_.”

“Very good, very good. Where should I send my missive?”

“Address your inquiry to Sienna of Harrisonville; I will make your introductions to _m’_ father.”

“That would be superb.” Naylor tilted his head up at Lafayette. “While we are speakin’, I must ask, where do you stand on bein’ invaded?”

“Rather a quick turn of the wheels, _Monsieur_. Am I to presume _vous_ are speakin’ of _m’_ State's current political conflicts and not _m’_ _maison…_ home?”

“Why I do suppose, I was unclear. That bein’ clarified, where do you stand on your State bein’ invaded by Unionists?”

Despite the bit of laughter in the man's voice, Lafayette felt a chill.


	12. Chapter NINE

Chapter Nine

Humor slipped from Lafayette’s face. “I do not judge Unionists are _qu’elle_ is infecting _m’_ State.” The scorn in his tone carried the precise clip to draw the attention of his neighbors.

They turned, eagerly, all of them knowing Lafayette and also knowing he had kept his thoughts on the subject close to the vest this past year.

Scanning the intent curious faces, he stepped away from the hubris South Carolinian, who had put him on the spot. “ _Mon amis_ , are we not a State born of the same venerated nation our Grandfather’s fought to create?” A few raised their chins, and he held out a hand. “And…as Missourians are not our hearts aligned with those of our Southern Sister States?” As he said this, he moved his hand to his heart.

The men before him nodded back.

Raising his voice, Lafayette asked, “And, why should we not be?"

The men nodded again.

“ _Feu de l'enfer_ , most of us have _familles_ within the South.” He waved out his hand, encompassing them all with the gesture, “Yet, is not each of you still proud to call yourself an American?”

This time they shrugged, but still nodded.

“We, ourselves, we Missourians have created the true crisis at hand.” He saw brows furrowing and chuckled softly, “The crisis we have, is indulging in contracts with banks, industries, and railroads, which are owned by clandestine men from outside our State. _They_ are our true menace.”

“What has that to do with it?” Came a voice from the crowd, and the surrounding men muttered in harmony.

Inhaling, Lafayette forced his voice to remain cordially confident, despite the sweat prickling across his back. “Bear with _moi. Qu’elle_ I am gettin’ to is…Missouri should be left to stand on her own.”

Some nodded. Some crossed their arms over their chests, and someone hollered, “But we ain’t alone, we is part of the South.”

Lafayette rolled forth a benevolent smile, “ _Oui._ We are Southerners, and yet, are not our views distinctive from those of the Deep South?”

This question had a significant number of men looking indecisive.

Taking a deep breath, Lafayette raised his voice, “Do not our Southern Sisters. . .” he paused and looking deliberately to Sky Naylor of South Carolina, a sly smile lighting up his dark eyes. “. . . neglect our proposals in Congress? Even when it comes to burdening _us_ with heavier tariffs, furthermore, they also consistently ignore arguments put forth by our representatives.”

The men turned hard eyes to Naylor, the outsider in their midst, and hastening his words, Lafayette growled, “ _Feu de l'enfer_ , the _entire_ eastern seaboard treats us as if’n we are all _naïve_ children?”

“That they do.” Came a response, and Lafayette thought he recognized the speaker, but who it was, at the moment, was unimportant.

“Our fathers carved this State from the uncharted Western Territory, and that in itself makes _each_ of us distinctive, because we live in a Western State.”

Smiles rose up on the faces, Lafayette he even saw chests swelling with pride.

“Consequently, all of ’em Back East includin’ . . .” He looked again at Skye Naylor, “the South do not understand us, for truly we, Missourians, are neither Northern nor Southern.”

“Hey now, Lafayette, watch what ya say.” Orville shouted, “I am proud to be a Southerner.”

“As am I.” Lafayette shouted back, nodding his chin toward Orville, “Except, I am prouder to be a Westerner.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“Missouri is _m_ _’_ home. It is a Western State, and I am damn proud to be a Westerner.” Lafayette scanned the men, “Do not each of you feel the same?”

As his question sank in, the group began nodding, a few cheering, until Rance raised his voice, “Ya said our threat was hidden men, Crowe.” Rance looked side to side, “Do not _ken_ on how us bein’ Westerners has any value in that.”

“But it does Rance; see as Westerners, we have our own ways.” Lafayette once more glanced at Skye Naylor and purposely turned his back on the man. “We have our own ideation. Our own way of life, even many of our beliefs, are unlike any other State? And if’n they refuse to recognize us, to represent us in government, then quite bluntly, I say those others can go straight to Hell, and while they are at it, leave Missouri alone.”

The men shifted, looking at each other, their uncertainty hanging as heavy as hot summer’s day humidity.

“How can even _une_ of you think, it would not be best if’n we Missourians were left to fashion our own laws and _libertés_? Sadly, as I said initially, we have a damn crisis on our hands, ‘cause our same fathers who created our State continue shaking hands with men who do not live here. Men, who do not fathom what we stand for, cannot understand what it means to be a Western man, and they are the _unes_ overriding us in both Congress and Senate.”

He looked pleadingly to his neighbors and friends, “It is those men who are keepin’ us down, and they do it to fill their pockets. That is our truest crisis; we _need_ to reclaim our State, to oversee our laws, to speak for ourselves in Washington, not these men who control us as if’n we ain’t much more than a passel of damn puppets.”

The group cast quizzical glances to one another, and slowly, they began nodding.

A trickle of sweat ran down Lafayette’s spine, and exhaling, he released his full dimpled smile, nodding along with all present.

“Why, if’n that ain’t one of the better, maybe even the best politickin’ speeches I have heard from you.”

Lafayette’s smile softened.

“Your rhetoric hummed ‘long like a passionate song.”

Lafayette could not see the speaker, but he knew the voice, knew it like he did Thaddeus’ or Gabriel’s. It was his closest friend, Jackson Ericksen.

The Ericksen’s were determined, strong-willed Norwegian’s who bought the land that backed up to Sienna when Lafayette was four years old. Their only son, Jackson’s birthday, was a day off from Lafayette’s.

Where he currently stood, Lafayette could not see Jackson. Still, he could conjure up his friend’s storm colored blue eyes, which Jackson used to study a person clear through before deigning to speak to them. Not that a person ever got a clear view of Jackson’s eyes, as his wheat-colored bangs habitually hung in his face, lending him an impassive air. Overall, there was an understated quality to Jackson from his soft drawl right down to how he walked and dressed.

Others had mistaken it to mean he was soft, even gone so far as to torment him into a fight. Yet not one of those fights had Jackson failed to win. The second he landed a punch, a person started rethinking the notion of him being soft, right quick.

Lafayette had seen him end fights in three or less punches. Most recently, this past spring, when Thaddeus had considered his horns long enough to shove Jackson out of the way. With one blow, Jackson had flattened him to the ground.

He was the only one ever to do so. Moreover, he was the only one; Lafayette would leave standing for doing so. Because Jackson was more than a friend, he was a brother to Lafayette.

“Ain’t goin’ to answer me?” Jackson asked. “Well then, Lafe, if’n we do not indulge in outside contracts, then how will we push our economic growth? And if’n we tell ‘em all to go to Hell…” Jackson stepped out, so Lafayette could see him, “would we not merely resemble the backward barbarians the Kansans and their Northern friends have unfaithfully labeled us?”

Lafayette did not return the smile his friend was showing, and irritation lay thick in his voice when he replied. “I concede your point.” Then rolling his shoulders back, he stood straighter. “However, it is imperative we become more selective of the contracts we sign. If’n we continue, passin’ our finances and political strength to men outside our State, who differ so greatly from us, in exchange for growth. Missouri will become enslaved to outside leadership.”

Orville edged to a position where he could see the pair as they exchanged words, as had many within the group. Looking from Jackson to Lafayette and back to Jackson, he roared, “By Glory and Sam Hill, if’n the pair of you ain't soundin’ like high-polished policymakers. Damnation, last I heard, Jackson, you was studyin’ to be a Doc, not no barrister.”

Jackson smiled wryly, “Perhaps, Lafe is rubbin’ off on me.”

With a shake of his head, Orville said, “All I knows is y’all could aim a bit straighter to the point.” Again, he shook his head like it hurt, marching toward Lafayette. “Hades, you went through all of that Lafayette just to get to slavery.”

Lafayette jerked back, his eyes widening, ‘ _Chiant!_ How did he come up with that? I just did _m’_ damnedest to not touch on slavery.’ Suddenly, he realized if he did not move, Orville would be standing right atop of him.

Just as Lafayette thought this, Orville’s beefy, left arm was about Lafayette’s shoulders, snugging him uptight as a tick. "Ol’ Lafayette here is a good sort. Y’all know that, hell, he has been sorta mouthy since he was knee high, but he is a good one.” He nodded at Lafayette with a sloppy grin. “Y’all know that. But we all also know. . .” He hugged Lafayette closer, “it is better not to let ‘em get started with his high-floating barrister speak.”

There was a cheer followed by ribald laughter.

“Let me cut to the chase. By God, our real problem and I do mean our _real_ problem is them damnable, whore’s son of a bitchin’, Jayhawkers stormin’ our border to fill their coffers, with our belongings and their mind’s ripe with murder.”

Rance hollered, “Damn right and their claim of a-walkin' in God’s shinin’ light ‘cause all they do is in the name of freedom and liberty. What utter damn, bullshit!”

The gathered men nodded, their faces reddening with anger.

Lafayette tried to duck out under Orville’s arm, only to find his grip too tight.

Meanwhile, Rance was moving forward, shouting, “What they are really chantin’ is, 'War! War to the knife and the knife to the hilt!' And it is we Missourians they are stickin’ their knives in.”

Orville grinned over to Lafayette, giving him a hearty shake, “What you got to say to that, pal?”

So low only Orville could hear, Lafayette replied, “let fuckin’ loose of _moi.”_

Orville chuckled, and as he did, Lafayette’s face took on a look that sent a shiver straight through the big man, and he released him quick as a man holding the wrong end of a diamondback snake.

Straightening his frock coat, Lafayette turned the same cold, wrathful expression on the crowd. “I fuckin’ say they are all yellow, two-faced liars! _Feu de l'enfer_ , it is zealotry and greed that brings ‘em ridin’ across our back forties. I tell you some men are--.” His mouth clamped shut, goosebumps rising up down his arms.

Orville tilted his head, “some men are … what?”

Swallowing, Lafayette replied in a more civilized tone, “throughout this nation, some are usin’ the fervor of their dogma as a free pass to create justice as they see it. And, I say, it is damn right immoral!”

Jackson stepped closer, “so your sayin’ gaurdin’ your home, your family, even your property is no more than a false fervor?”

Lafayette’s head pivoted slowly to Jackson, feeling like his friend had punched him where he was put together. “ _Non_! Every person has the right to protect what is theirs.”

“Exactly!” Came a sharp voice from the other side of the crowd. “That is why I am signing up with Jo Shelby’s Unit.”

Well-nigh every face turned to Mitchell Seaborne. He was at every social gathering yet rarely noticed. For Mitchell was quiet as a mouse, somehow managing to look like one with his dusty, brown hair, small sharp nose, and eyes that never quit moving. The concept of Mitchell, the meekest among them, joining a military unit, sparked everyone’s attention.

“You heard me.” Mitchell squeaked, standing straighter to stare back into the eyes roving over him. “Capt’ Shelby is in Lexington. He is takin’ on men for his Mounted Rifle Unit. They plan on puttin’ a halt to just them type of men Crowe is speakin’ of. So, I ain’t standin’ ‘round jabbering no more, I am fixin’ to make myself of use.”

“By golly! Good for ya.” Rance McGreen cheered.

“Would not have thought ya had it in ya.” Orville bellowed, “But, Hades, Seaborne, damn proud to know ya, Boy.”

A circle closed about Mitchell, and Lafayette saw it as his chance to step out of the fire and meander away.


	13. Chapter TEN

Chapter Ten

Jackson Ericksen took off after his friend, “Do you see how fast it is all changin’?”

Gnawing at the inside of his lip, Lafayette walked faster, the sweet notes of ‘Prima Donna Waltz’ drifting to him on the wind. Slanting his eyes to the Barnett’s upper lawn where gauzy bunting strung between a forest of white painted pillars fluttered, he momentarily admired the beauty of the gentlemen swinging their ladies on the raised dance floors.

Sensing Jackson at his side, Lafayette deliberated on tearing into his friend for calling him out as he had. Except, he did not feel like arguing, and instead, he asked. “You plannin’ on-goin' to Lexington?”

“Why is there a medical conference?”

Lafayette rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you are speakin’ of me join’ Shelby?”

One dark brow arched.

“Glory be! Why would I do that? You know my way of thinkin’: lawlessness contributes to lawlessness.”

Lafayette did not reply.

Jackson’s voice spiked a little defensively, “I have no plans to attach myself to a damn unit. What about you?”

Lafayette’s eyes drifted to the stables.

With a casual practiced air, Jackson pushed his long bangs from his face, “Come on, Bub, you been holdin’ too tight to your thoughts, let me in.”

Walking a bit further from the cheering circle at their backs, Lafayette muttered, “you rightly know _m’_ plans, and they do not include joinin’ up.”

Jackson nodded.

“Just tryin’ to keep dodging invites without losin’ face until I leave for Kentucky.” Looking Jackson straight in the eyes, Lafayette lowly said, “These damn units nauseate _moi._ All of ‘em. I do not care what their reasons or who they are huntin’. _Zut,_ they ain’t nothing more than semi-organized lynch mobs.”

Jackson remained silent.

Not reading any disapproval, Lafayette sighed, turning to observe those they had left behind, thinking. ‘I did it. I finally said aloud; I do not believe in huntin’ Free-Staters, abolitionists, or whatever the supposed enemy is called.’ From the corner of his eye, he saw Jackson was studying him. “ _Frère??”_

“Still am.”

Unsure if Jackson’s words were a question or a statement, Lafayette nodded, releasing a quivering sigh. “We have known 'em since we were _garçons.”_

“I know.” Was Jackson’s simple response as he removed a small, silver case from his pocket, knocking a cigarillo from it, he took his time drawing a hot flame into the tobacco. “You and I have visited their homes, eaten at their tables, laughed with their families, and danced with their sisters.” Taking a pull of his smoke, he leaned closer to Lafayette, his voice a mere whisper, the smoke drifting between them. “Somehow, they all appear different.”

Sorrow wreathed Lafayette’s handsome face, “Suppose it is a childish notion, but I sure wish we could all stay as we have always been.”

Blowing a perfect smoke ring, Jackson nodded.

“And, Jackson, how is it?” Lafayette’s eyes slanted to Jackson, “that I feel I am standin’ unequivocally alone thinkin’ it is wrong to storm the border for the singular purpose of harassin’ others.”

“You ain’t alone, Bub.”

The creases in Lafayette’s face smoothed, “Well, this crisscrossing the damn border for vengeance,” he combed his fingers back through his hair, “none of it will make the situation any better.”

“You are correct. Border fightin’ is never goin’ to bring about the results...” Jackson pointed toward their friends with his cigarillo. “… _they_ are hoping for.”

The tobacco’s sweet smoke caught in a breeze, blowing back into their faces.

“Can I cadge a smoke?”

Lighting one from his own, Jackson passed it over without comment, and the two stood companionably smoking. During which, Lafayette’s eyes took on a faraway gaze, until he at last, he broke the comfortable silence. “Suppose it is rather hypocritical of _moi_ to condemn ‘em.” He jabbed a thumb toward the others. “As I too think the Northern States have been receivin’ a more than rather lenient bend of justice. _Zut_! It ain’t fair, and if’n we do not stand up to them, we are goin’ to be plowed under.” Turning the cigarillo between his fingertips, he blew on the cherry until a soft, white chunk of ash fell off. “Makes _moi_ confused how I feel about _mon_ self.”

“That surprises me.”

Lafayette peeked at his friend.

“You ain’t ever been one to second-guess yourself.”

The corner of Lafayette’s mouth quirked down, and he took a long drag of his smoke.

“Also sounds like a part of you is considerin’ joinin’?”

Lafayette shook his head. “ _Non._ But way I see it is, if’n South Carolina keeps rilin’ up her sisters, ain’t a _une_ of 'em goin’ to settle down unless all of ’em are permitted their Constitutional rights as written in the tenth amendment. With their _sine qua non_ being, it ain’t the place of an outside government to squash the rights of a State and its citizens.”

“There you go with that barrister speak again.”

“ _Zut_! Jackson, I am serious.”

“So am I, Bub.”

Lafayette took another draw of his cigarillo. “We live in the finest democratic society in the entire world.”

“I would not go that far.”

Lafayette looked over sharp, and Jackson shrugged.

“Take our court systems where a man is innocent until proven guilty. With that being said, do you not deem criminal transgressions should be managed in a court of law?” Lafayette’s voice dropped to a hiss. “ _Chiant!_ Who declared the point of a revolver as _justice_?” Sighing, he let his building steam loose with a large exhale of tobacco smoke. “Just sayin’, people should allow the law to do its ordained function.”

“Sounds a touch more Utopian than we all are,” Jackson replied, and turning he laid a hand on his friend’s shoulders. “And, Lafe, you mark my words, this whole scene, and I am not speaking merely of our personal border difficulties, the whole barrel is fixin’ to blow up. This Nation will be at war, and then you will have to choose where you stand."

In the back of his mind, Lafayette could hear Jackson’s strict Lutheran father preaching on the evils of slavery, and he bowed his head, “Have you made your choice?”

“Yup,” Jackson answered coolly, throwing his cigarillo to the ground, and grinding the life out of it beneath his boot heel. “When the South secedes, I will enlist in whichever side Missouri follows.”

“ _Qu’elle,_ if’n it is for the South? Your father will oppose that notion.”

“He will,” Jackson said, waving toward their friends further off. “I was born in St. Louis, I too am a Missourian, and I will defend my State. Wherever it goes. I will fight beside my fellow Missourians. Although, I will not fight for slavery, but for all you spoke of earlier and more.”

Lafayette nodded, “You should not join. You have your studies. You ain’t spoke of lil’ more than doctorin’ these past years.”

“I will learn plenty on a battlefield,” Jackson replied, a bitter smile smearing his gentle looks. “Do you not think?”

While they chatted, Valentine McCane had taken it on himself to stroll over.

They both ran their eyes over his small, wiry man with his too close together eyes that tended to give him a continuous smug expression.

Nodding to them, Valentine played out his words like he was testing Lafayette. “Well, Fate, you got any high-soundin’ thoughts regardin’ Jim Lane’s group?”

Pulling long and hard on the cigarillo, Lafayette did not bother hiding his contempt as he thought. ‘If’n Valentine ain’t the same bully, flannel-mouth he was as a _garçon_.’ Blowing out his smoke, Lafayette spit on the ground between him and Valentine, “ _Jésus a pleuré_ , how many times I have to reiterate to you, _m’ nom_ is Lafayette. Not Fate, Fay, or anything else you contemplate to fuckin’ toss about, Valentine!”

Valentine’s narrow brow came down in a sharp v over his dull, faded brown eyes, which he flicked Jackson’s direction, as he knew he used a shortened version of Lafayette’s name. “Mighty damn vainglorious, ain’t you?”

Lafayette's right hand curled into a fist, a smile tickling the corners of his mouth, recalling the many gatherings Thaddeus had dived feet first into Valentine. Staring at him now, he found an entirely new appreciation for his little brother’s lack of composure when dealing with ignorant upstarts.

“It is _m’_ right to choose _qu’elle_ I am called and by whom,” Lafayette replied, dropping the butt of his smoke between Valentine's feet. “ _Tu es vraiment ennuyeux de moi. **[1]**”_

Jackson shook his head, “Bub.”

Valentine’s narrow set eyes shifted from Lafayette to Jackson.

“Bub.”

The corner of Lafayette’s mouth hitched to the side as he thought. “Jackson is correct; this is most definitely an unsuitable time for _moi_ to fall to Taddy’s way of behavin’.’ Forcing forth a false smile, Lafayette asked. “Why exactly did you come over here, Valentine?”

“To ask if’n you heard ‘bout what Rooster Jim’s been up to?”

Lafayette shrugged.

“Halifax, what rock you been crouchin’ under?” Valentine sneered from under his peach-fuzz mustache. “Jim and his Kansans have been crossin’ the border like they are playin’ hopscotch.”

“ _Pour l'amour de Dieu,_ them crossin’ ain’t anything new?” Lafayette replied, stomping on the still smoking cigarillo. “Besides, I ain’t had time to crouch, let alone ride ‘round gatherin’ back-porch talk. What with Gabe gone and Taddy’s ague I been kept busy enough to lose track of _qu’elle_ day it is. So, since you are all fired up to gust on, keep right on blowin’, and fill _moi_ in?”

Jackson’s brow creased. Rubbing a hand down his smooth, close-cropped, golden beard, he over spoke Valentine, saying. “Since you are set on justice being the correct path. I am sure you do not need to be told about John Doy.”

Lafayette turned hard eyes to his friend, thinking, ‘why in the hell does it feel like Jackson is settin’ _moi_ up for a _mêlée_?’ Yet, remaining aloof, he answered, “ _Oui, I_ am familiar with abolitionist Dr. John Doy, he was captured breakin’ the law. Therefore, our courts convicted him of slave stealin’. Thusly, he is to be transferred to the Jeff City State Penitentiary.” Lafayette nodded, “when I read of his trial, it made _moi_ proud Missouri stuck by the judicial system and not irrational mob mentality.”

“That is fine, except a mob of Free-Staters stole him from jailer Brown at rifle point.” Jackson said, “They felt it was an excellent rescue, and it is said, Doy was escorted into Lawrence on the wings of a hero’s welcome.”

Valentine scowled at Jackson, but then grinning nastily, he asked. “You recall Martin Cave?”

Lafayette frowned at the man, “ _Oui,_ he and his live over in Bates off Morristown Road.”

Valentine nodded, “yep, and it is going ‘round how it was Captain Birmingham’s Missouri Home Guard that assisted Jennison and his Jayhawkers on a raid along through there that included Martin’s place.”

Lafayette frowned rigidly.

Valentine put in, “They got their place burned; everything…the house, barn, outbuildings, even fences."

"But not before they robbed the place bare," Rance said, having meandered over with others. “Yep, all that is left is the chimney, just like my place.”

“The _vraiment_ sad part is…” Jackson looked down with a soft sigh, “Martin and another were found hung some distance from their homes.”

Lafayette's face became still as frozen ice.

With a crowd before him, Valentine fell to parading like a prize rooster. “Yes, Siree, they are thumbin’ their damnable scalawag noses at our judicial system and murderin’ guiltless men. I say it is high time we all return to Lawrence, hunt us some filthy, backstabbin’, abolitionist scum, and maybe we ought not be too gentl--”

Turning on his heel, Lafayette strode away, shaking his head, he thought. ‘That is, it. I am done. I know the Border has become hell, but there ain’t _non_ reason to stand ‘bout listenin’ to glorified war talk. I can see now, _qu’elle_ Jackson was tryin’ to get _moi_ to see _,_ and that is the shaky truce of ’58 has reached its end.’ Throwing a last glance over his shoulder, Lafayette headed for the picnic, ‘Specially with all the _garcons_ desirin’ to dip their hands in blood. If’n I do not find cooler minds at the picnic, I am searchin’ Jo up, and we are pullin’ out for home.”

[1] You are really annoying the fuck out of me.


	14. Chapter ELEVEN

Chapter Eleven

“Bub?”

Flinging a ‘go screw yourself’ look over his shoulder, Lafayette lengthened his stride.

Loping up to and past him, Jackson stepped over, blocking his friend’s progress. “I should not have shoved you out into the fire like that.”

Side-stepping with a snort, Lafayette kept walking.

“Bub, I just needed you to see how close we are to war.”

“Leave _moi_ be.” Lafayette hissed, feeling his rage scratching to be released.

“Did you notice how little it takes to stir ‘em up?”

Skidding to a stop, Lafayette spun on Jackson, his left dimple dipping in time with the blood pounding through his veins. “ _Putain en enfer!_ I am done with you.”

A look that bordered on fear crossed Jackson’s face. Still, he laid a hand on Lafayette’s shoulder. “ _Mes apologies_.”

Shaking his hand off, Lafayette took a step back.

“Bub, you gotta take a breath, rein yourself in.”

“ _Ta gueule,_ I do not need you tellin’ _moi_ how I should fuckin’ be.”

“Despite how angry I have made you.” Jackson glance about them. “You must get a grip on your emotions.”

Lafayette’s face twisted, his eyes slits of obsidian staring odiously back at Jackson.

Jackson took a step closer, “Bub… _Frère_ …your rage is takin’ over.”

The air between them felt heated from Lafayette’s panting breaths.

Warily Jackson laid a hand across Lafayette’s raised fists, “Lafayette, please…take a breath.”

Inhaling until his nostrils flattened, Lafayette closed his eyes, taking one deep, slow breath after another. Bit by bit smothering his rage. As a boy, his temper would soar out of control until he fell into a rage striking out at anything near. Over time, Peter taught him he must control the fire and when it tried to slip free to smother it.

Shoving his bangs from his eyes, Jackson peered worriedly at Lafayette, thinking, ‘it has been a good while since his rage has been allowed take over.’ Gently he asked, “you got it back in its cage?”

Lafayette nodded, opening his eyes slowly.

“‘Bout escaped, altogether, huh?”

“ _Non,_ thanks to you.” Lafayette griped, shaking his hair back. “I do not want to talk _non_ more ‘bout war. You have made your damn point. The peace has been shattered. Now, drop it!” Interlacing his fingers behind his head, Lafayette groaned, blowing out a lungful of air. “Jo’s on a rampage up there. Taddy is still weaker than an abandoned foal. By the way, _merci beaucoup_ for askin’ Doc.”

“Lafe…”

“ _Chiant!”_ Throwing his hands down, Lafayette quietly said. “I also ain’t got the slightest idea where Gabe is, and _m’_ instincts say I do not want to know.” He turned to the side yard, “and then, you go ‘bout settin’ _moi_ up for some damn hemp looper to trounce all over.”

“I was not settin’ you up for any such thing.”

Lafayette shook his head, “feelin’ like I do not know who I can trust.”

“Bub.”

“Leave off, afore I say something I will regret.” Putting his hands atop Jackson’s shoulders, his voice dropped low. “Grant _moi_ a _faveur._ ”

Jackson nodded.

“Break off settin’ the stage for 'em, for any of ‘em. I just ain’t got it in _moi_ to remain decorous any longer.”

“I will not do it again.”

Exhaling, Lafayette tilted his head down, and when he raised it, his face was expressionless as a dead man. “Of course, I suppose, I should be askin’,” he sucked in his cheeks, “if’n you figure on being first in line to take a swing at _moi_?”

“How can you ask that?” Jackson shook his head in disbelief.

Lafayette pulled away with a shrug.

“ _Jésus a pleuré_ _,_ Bub,” Jackson said, clasping his right hand about the back of Lafayette’s neck. “I shall forever be by your side, forever, Bub, never otherwise.” Shaking his head, Jackson snorted softly, smiling so large his eyes disappeared, and leaning in, he knocked his forehead against Lafayette’s. “You are the only _frère_ I have. Well. . .and Taddy, but I only partially claim ‘em.”

Lafayette looked up with a broken smile, “ _apologies.”_

“Not needed.”

“There are days, I only partially claim Taddy, too.”

Jackson playfully shoved Lafayette; when he did, spotted Coleman Younger and Frank Manning heading their way. “Chin up; we seem to be drawin’ them like ants to honey. Any notions?”

Lafayette chuckled, “Cause, we ain’t like 'em, and they can smell it.”

“Naw, it stands to reason," Jackson whispered, as Coleman and Frank were almost on top of them, with the rest of the herd snaking along after them. "This would have turned a touch more physical if’n; they knew our true thoughts.”

“Or if’n you had not got _moi_ to lock _m’_ rage up.”

Jackson nodded solemnly, “that, too,’ his mouth curling into a jester’s smile.

“What are y’all plotting?” Coleman asked, so matter of factly, it was impossible to take offense.

“To go boar huntin’," Lafayette answered hastily, with forced cheerfulness. "I almost have Jackson convinced. I got _moi_ a-hankerin' to try out _m’_ _nouveau_ Colt."

"Sweet lady in waitin’, Lafayette, that arrived over a month ago in the post,” Coleman shook his head. “You ain’t tried it out yet?”

Lafayette shrugged, briskly replying, "Sienna ain’t given _moi_ a break to do so.” Looking out at the others, he asked. “Anyone want to join us?"

The group’s attention split, at once, a boar hunt sounding more likely than enlisting with a guard unit or scouring into Kansas. Although a handful were still dreaming of war. Hunting, on the other hand, was a subject they all had experience in and understood.

“Tarnation, Lafayette, I think it might ’en be poor judgment,” Orville said, his brash way drowning out the other voices.

Through a flat, tight smile, Lafayette asked, “Why would that be?”

Seeing all were waiting for his reply, Orville looked down quickly, “Hell, I was just worryin’ after you.”

“Tarnal, but Lafayette can shoot the eye out of a bird in flight.” Reed Chaplin said, popping Orville on the back, “cease worryin’ after ‘em. He can damn-well hold his own against a boar.”

“That ain’t it; I was thinkin’ that some might consider him a spy or worse pokin’ around.”

Lafayette barked, “Riggs.” and above the heads of the other men, standing between them, his black eyes locked onto Orville. “Spy? Who the hell by? Everyone in Cass, _par Dieu,_ in our closest counties knows _moi_ on sight or at least by _nom_. So, tell _moi,_ who this side of Lucifer’s barbed tail is goin’ to think _moi_ a _malheureux_ spy?”

Orville, for once, mumbled, “I ain’t talkin’ about people we all associate with.”

Lafayette thought, ‘then precisely who?’ surveying his neighbors, a couple refusing to meet his eyes. ‘ _Merde_ , it is a wonder I am not just as paranoid, must be a result of keepin’ to Sienna.’ He smirked, glancing to Jackson, ‘reckon it has made _moi_ unawares, at his thought.’

Then all at once, it came to Lafayette how he wanted to savor his last bit of time home before leaving for University. “Tell you what _messieurs_ ; let us plain alter the topic. Do not all of’n you judge it too fine a day to be gettin’ so heated under the collar?”

A few nodded.

“Besides, did we not come here to celebrate _Mademoiselle_ Elizabeth’s birthday?”

More of them nodded.

“What kind of _messieurs_ are we? If’n we stand out here faultfindin’ the world when there are _filles. . .”_ He pointed toward the party. “. . . nearby, expectin’ our attentions?”

A good deal of the group appeared ill at ease at the thought of upsetting the fairer sex, yet there was still a sprinkling of those who looked like they wished to restoke the coals.

Chirking through his familiar dimpled smile, Lafayette’s tone became warm as sunshine. “On second thought, y’all stay here.” He waved a hand out at them. “Go right on, get yourselves all fired up. _Moi_ …” He pulled the hand back, touching his chest. “I only got a few weeks left afore I head off to Kentucky.” He chirked at them, once more, grinning to beat the moon. “And I ain’t got any intentions on wasting ‘em when _belle_ _petites_ are waitin’ to be danced with.” Flashing an all-inclusive broad smile, he bowed, walking off with Jackson at his side.

“Oh no, you do not.” Albert Minters cried, rushing after them and throwing an arm about Lafayette’s shoulders. “We let you reach them gals first, with your whole pitiful tale of leavin’ for school and, by Jiminy, the rest of’n us are without a single Sallie, to cozy up to ‘till your backside is headed Back East.”

The others exchanged looks, realizing Albert was stating chapters and verses of truth and they rushed to follow.

Nathaniel Davis trotting up and falling in alongside Jackson, leaned out, asking. “How much longer is Tad figurin’ to calf around Sienna?”

“Nate, he ain’t loafin’, that _diable_ ague been tearing 'em to pieces.”

“Yeah, and I heard where he got it,” snorted Reed Chaplin.

“ _Feu de l'enfer_ , it ain’t any kind of secret.” Lafayette chuffed out a laugh, “Not with Fox lettin’ all who will listen, hear ‘bout their night at the MacIntosh riverboat.”

Laughing harder, Reed asked, “Reckon, he might should have left it at just drinkin’ and gamblin’ this time?”

Lafayette’s eyes glinted mischievously, "well, he sure did not, if’n _qu’elle_ his dearest _ami_ has been spreadin' ‘round is accurate."

“What did your father say?” Nathaniel Davis asked, sucking in his lower lip, for he knew how his father, the Baptist preacher, would react to him visiting such a depraved place.

“Well, Nate, you could say it is a _famille_ secret,” Lafayette replied, baring his toothiest smile. "Cause Father ain’t got the slightest clue where Taddy picked up the ague and not a _une_ of us from Mams to Jackson has let ‘em in on the secret.”

At this, they all laughed, and the tension between them floating away, and for a short time more, they were, once more, all friends, simply, enjoying a day together.


	15. Chapter TWELVE

Chapter Twelve

Having just finished welcoming her newest group of guests, Elizabeth Barnett swung lazily on the arbor swing within the trumpet vine-covered gazebo. She thought, ‘from the sprays of imported yellow roses to every guest in this here garden; it is all for me. All of it just as I wanted,’ a smile flickered across her face. ‘Papa has done everything I said, never once saying no to anything. Even the weather, why with the breeze it is not even too hot.’ She giggled, ‘wonder how he accomplished that.’

Finishing her thickly sweetened coffee, she set the pastel china cup on the side table. Then standing, Elizabeth smoothed her bell skirt, ensuring it hung correctly. Glancing about to make sure she was alone, she adjusted her bosom higher in her bodice. ‘I just know,’ she thought, ‘the whole region will be gushin’ on about my party for years to come, and my dress is the most eye catchin’ here.’ Twirling, enjoying the way the robin’s egg blue silk flashed in the light, she smiled loftily. ‘It is just wonderful how Papa had this fabric delivered all the way from London. ‘Ain’t no one here gonna have a dress so fashionable.’

Stepping down from the gazebo, Elizabeth dithered on where to go next. Yet on spotting Lafayette and Jackson leading a collection of the local boys her way, her eyes widened, her pulse quickening, and she walked toward them. Inhaling sharply, she thought, ‘There he is.’ A smile covered her face. ‘Lafayette must simply be the most handsome man in all the State, and I deem Papa would approve of ‘em, what with his family’s wealth and all. I have just got to get ‘em to kiss me; then, he would be obligated to be my beau. Ooh, to catch ‘em would make all the other gals pea-green with envy.’

Smoothing her hair, she quickly chewed her lips, brightening their color as she told herself. ‘Since Papa says I am of age to have suitors. I will not allow Lafayette to brush me off, calling me _petite fleur_ as he has done in the past. I am no longer a child, and this is my party, so how can he refuse to dance and eat barbeque with me?’

She sashayed a bit further down the lawn, her dress swaying like a massive bell around her. ‘Today is the day; I will make ‘em mine.’ Releasing what she felt was an affectionate smile, she called, “Why Mr. Erikson, Mr. Minters, Mr. Riggs, Mr. Younger…. oh, so many of you. Why y’all are just simply the dearest takin’ time to attend my little ol’ party, and y’all look so dashin’…” She turned her eyes on Lafayette, “and I must say, Mr. Crowe, I am particularly pleased you are here.”

At her high-pitched voice singling him out, Lafayette cringed down to the bottom of his boot soles.

Bowing his head to cover his laughter, Jackson hissed, “She is waitin’ for you.”

“I hear that.”

Snickering, Jackson elbowed his pal in the ribs. “Best put on a smile.”

Lafayette hissed back through his frozen smile, “You rightly know, this ain’t nothing I wish to smile ‘bout.”

Jackson chuckled more.

Coming up to him, Elizabeth touched Lafayette’s arm, saying, “It is too bad Taddy is not with you. I heard illness still has hold of ‘em. I sure hope he is on the mend soon.”

“ _Merci beaucoup,_ it has been a battle, yet we are all feelin’ confident he will improve.”

Elizabeth nodded cheerfully, “Anyways, I just cannot tell you how tickled I am you are here.” She batted her eyes at him. “Papa had a wonderful band brought in for dancin’."

“Did he _petite fleur_?”

“He did.” She slapped his bicep teasingly, “If you did know, I turned sixteen on Tuesday. I am no longer a little girl.” She stepped closer, “I can dance with whomever, I wish.” Smiling delightedly up at him, she slipped her dance card from her sleeve.

“That so, _petit--”_ Lafayette coughed sharply when Jackson’s elbow hooked him in the ribs. “That so, _Mademoiselle._ ”

“It is. I was hopin’ to dance with all y’all,” Elizabeth looked to the others with a beaming smile, her attention coming, directly, back to Lafayette. “Would you like to see my card?”

Before he could conjure a reply that would save him from spending the entire day with her, Orville rushed forward.

“Here now, Miss Elizabeth, I would be pleased to place my name on your card.” Orville gushed, and taking her hand, he brushed his lips across the back of it, his gray eyes peering up beseechingly. “If’n ya would allow. For, I must say, it would be an exquisite pleasure.”

“Why Mr. Riggs,” her cheeks blossomed with color.

“I do swear, Miss Elizabeth.” Orville smiled like a schoolboy at her, “I cannot recall, ever seein’ a lady as delightfully beautiful as you. Why ya have stolen this poor country boy’s breath away.”

Elizabeth quivered, thinking. ‘Perhaps, I have not given Orville Riggs a close enough look? He does appear charmin’, not too harsh on the eyes. Still, he is not...’ her gaze drifted from Orville to find Lafayette easing his way toward the rear of the group, and she frowned.

“Did I say something wrong, Miss Elizabeth?”

Her eyes darted back to Orville, “not at all.”

“Then shall we?” Orville replied, offering his elbow.

“I would be pleased.” She smiled up at him, slipping her lace-gloved hand about his arm.

Having captured his prize, Orville swept her away, leaving the others to trail after them. Except for Lafayette, he veered, making a hasty retreat toward another part of the picnic.

Checking over his shoulder, he saw not even Jackson had followed. Snagging a wine glass from a passing tray, Lafayette smiled, taking a drink. ‘Here is a toast to you, Orville, _m’ ami_ , _merci beaucoup,_ you saved _m’_ ass. Sure hope, she measures up to what you are lookin’ for, leastwise, I am _libre_.’

Ambling along, Lafayette paused here and there for polite dialog, only half-heartedly wishing to find Joséphine. Yet, in the end, he caught sight of the dark hue of her dress, which was not hard as it stood in contrast to the soft, blossom-colors of the other ladies.

‘Might as well let her rip into _moi,_ ’ he thought. ‘Get her to let _moi_ apologize for how I handled her, then I can take her for a twirl on the dance floor, and all will be as it always was ‘tween us.’

Drawing near, he tilted his head to the side.

Joséphine was the wheel hub to a circle of men, including Dick Younger, who seemed to be attached to her elbow. As it came to Lafayette exactly how many men were bunched around her, his brows dropped low, and he muttered, “ _Qu’elle diable_ has caused such a gatherin’?”

Standing out of her line of sight, he drank his wine, eavesdropping. ‘Ah-ha, she is discussin’ _chevals_ and racin’.’ He nodded, ‘ _non_ wonder they are all there, only _fille_ here with a decent topic of conversation.' He took a step forward, pausing, he thought. ‘Even though there ain't much better talk than _chevals_... I still do not see how she got so many of 'em in on the discourse.'

Taking a closer look, he noted how raptly the men were focused on her. Circling them, he scrutinized his sister. ‘She certainly looks out of place in her ridin’ habit. Notwithstandin’ that deep plum color certainly does accent her _beauté_ and its clean, tailored lines…. _cling to her body_.’

Inhaling hard, Lafayette bit the insides of his cheeks, his eyes narrowing. ' _Par_ _Dieu_! How did I not perceive this before we left Sienna? _Zut!_ Jo is a veritable Peitho, and I, like an _imbécile,_ allowed her to attend dressed this way _and_ unescorted.’

His eyes shot from one man’s face to the next, this time fully cognizant of the lurid imaginations playing out behind their earnest expressions. His nostrils flared, and the fluted stem of his wine glass snapped, the broken shards dropping unnoticed to the ground as his hands balled into fists.

He was but a hair's breadth from browbeating his way to Joséphine when his logical side shouted, ‘You cannot start a riot, just ‘cause you finally understand how appealing your _petite sœur_ is. Damnation, _non_ matter what any of ‘em might be thinkin’, ain’t a _un_ of ‘em goin’ to do anything untoward. You fully know that.’

Backing up, he studied on the situation, thinking. ‘Jo is already peeved at _moi._ I burst in, pullin’ her out, and she will most definitely make a scene.’ Gnawing at the inside of his cheek, each man’s name ran through Lafayette’s mind, and he frowned. “Ain’t _un_ of ‘em who ain’t from a decent _famille_. _Jésus, a pleuré,_ Dick is the eldest of Harrisonville’s Mayor. How much more respectable could I want?’

Still, all he could see was a circle of wolves flashing their drooling smiles at his baby sister.


	16. Chapter THIRTEEN

Chapter Thirteen

Despite the respectability of the men about Joséphine, Lafayette could still feel his rage scratching to escape. Panting and seeing red, he thought, ‘You let go, and you will be goin’ for blood.’

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to breathe deep and slow, saying. ‘Just turnabout and walk off afore you start a rather memorable brawl.’ Without opening his eyes, he did just that.

Once away, he paused, long enough, to snatch a second glass of wine from a passing tray. Shooting it down, he exchanged the empty for another. Scanning the yard for a diversion, he noticed Suzanne Reynolds.

She was a favorite among the region’s bachelors, and it was a rare day for her to be without admirers swarming for her attention. Even so, here she was lazily fanning herself beneath a mimosa tree by the rear terrace and was all on her lonesome.

A sneaky smile lit Lafayette’s face. ‘Suppose the best way to forget Jo’s admirers is to find a _chère_ of _m’_ own to appreciate.’ His smile turned a touch fiendish. ‘Kind of makes _moi_ the wolf.’

Easing up, behind Suzanne, he leaned in whispering. “If’n _vous_ are overheated, _Mademoiselle_ Suzanne, I would be pleased to fetch _vous_ a dish of ice cream or a cool drink.”

His warm breath swirled across the back of her ear and down her neck, causing Suzanne to spring forward like a startled rabbit. Spinning, she rapped his arm with her fan. “How dare you sneak up on a person like that!”

The sun had her hair shining like honey, the blue of her eyes was as bright as the sky, and the exposed curve of her breasts were rising and falling most enticingly as she recovered from the startle.

Stricken silent by her attractions, Lafayette stood staring.

Then, before he gathered his wits, her eyes narrowed, and Suzanne stepped in so close, her bosom pressed into his chest. “My goodness… if’n you ain't an appealin’ rogue today, Lafayette Crowe.”

Her honeysuckle scent enveloped him. Lowering his eyes to look her in the face, he was also afforded quite the view of the plump, creamy skin contained within her bodice. Between her closeness, scent, and the scenery, he lost all focus.

“Have you nothing to say?”

His mind whirled, and he thought. ‘ _Zut!_ Speak up; you are fixin’ to miss your shot.’ Retrieving his, and then with more significant effort, he mumbled forth. “ _Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle_ Suzanne _._ ”

The skin between her brows pinched, and with a coy smile, she traced the edge of his open shirt collar. “I do not understand, Fate…what are you speakin’?”

“ _Excusez-moi, c'est François_ _…_ Uh…Um.” Lafayette cringed, biting his lower lip. “ _Non_ , I mean, _m’_ apologies. It is French. See, at _m’ maison…_ home, it is our second language.”

“How very charmin’.” She purred, leaning into him, “it all sounds rather _evocative_ slippin’ from your tongue.”

His dark eyes widened, the color draining from him.

With a giggle, Suzanne asked, “Why do you not say it again? So, I might understand you.” Her finger slipping under the fabric of his shirt to stroke his collarbone as she boldly gazed into his eyes.

A low gasp slipped from Lafayette.

She grinned, “Well?”

“What I said... or was goin’ to say... was...” Lafayette inwardly cursed himself for his tangled tongue. Inhaling deep, he swallowed. “I was goin’ to say thank you for your compliment. However, the moment seems lost."

“Perhaps we might create another...” She replied, her finger trailing up his throat, “moment.”

This time he swallowed, so hard, they both heard it.

She played out a come-hither smile, the fine edge of her nail tracing the indention of his dimple. “How should we do that….Fate?”

His eyes darkening, Lafayette gulped out. " _M’famille_ calls _moi…_ me, Lafe. But you may call _moi,_ Fate, if’n you wish.”

Tilting her head back, she smiled, “Fate it is.”

Then, as natural, as if he had done it a hundred times, Lafayette cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb along its smooth surface. A crackle of desire flickered between them, sharp as a sheet snapping in the wind.

Turning into his hand, her eyes watching him, she traced her tongue across her lower lip.

Fleetingly, he forgot how to breathe and then throwing propriety away---bent, intent on kissing her wet mouth.

At that exact moment, she took a step backward. Effectively separating them and exclaiming, “My, my!” Suzanne fluttered her fan between them. “Fate. Oh, Fate! I surely, do not know what came over me.”

Confusion sharp in his eyes, Lafayette raked his teeth over his lower lip.

Smiling brilliantly, she placed a hand across his heart. “William will return at any moment.”

Nevertheless, she eyed him hungrily, brazenly dragging her fingertips down his breast, causing the skin beneath to tighten.

“See, he went to fetch me lemonade.”

Drinking in her scent, Lafayette almost growled as he said. “He can bring you a drink.” While closing the distance she had created, fully determined to taste her lips, his voice dropped to a purr. “I, however, intend to claim your entire dance card.”

Suzanne’s eyes strayed to the grassy lawn covered with guests, her fingers fidgeting with the ribbons on the handle of her fan.

Reading her apprehension, Lafayette froze, thinking. ‘I cannot readin’ her wrong? Besides, how vested can she be in _this_ William, if’n she is flirtin’ with _moi_?’ Then his lopsided grin appeared, ‘ _Feu de l'enfer_ , she has gone far beyond flirtin’. Mams would say she is behavin’ like a Jezebel. Well, _par_ _Dieu;_ I am positive I can turn the cards on her.’

Ever so gently, he took hold of her chin, turning her face back to him. “ _Mon chère?”_

“French again?” She asked, and they shared a smile.

Slipping his hand along her jaw, he toyed with her earlobe, “ _Mon chère_ , is you considerin’ not dancin’ with _moi_?” Bending, so his lips brushed her ear, he whispered, "Assuredly, you could not be so wicked as to wound _moi_ in such a way?” As he withdrew, he passed his mouth so close to hers; the air stirred between them.

She shuddered.

Withdrawing slowly, leaving space for her to come to him, he believed in less than a heartbeat, her lips would be on his.

Instead, a mashing blow landed soundly on his shoulder. “Ahem, Crowe!”

All too quickly, Suzanne leapt away, shame shattering her lusty allure.

Spinning, his anger rising, he put himself toe-to-toe with William Alder. ‘Figures,’ he thought, ‘the Adlers tend to scarf up anything of value that crosses their paths. Well, I ain’t givin’ him the satisfaction this time.’

Extending his hand, Lafayette prompted Adler into a handshake, and gripping fiercely, he snarled. “ _Bonjour,_ William, what _incredible_ timin’ _vous_ have. Yet, I would say, it ain’t perfect for _Mademoiselle_ Suzanne was just decidin’ to run away with _moi_.”

Yanking his hand free, William swelled up like a stepped-on horny toad, shooting a scathing look Suzanne’s way.

She hastened to his side, taking hold of his arm like a chastised child.

Lafayette’s eyes slanted to her, and he arched a brow, prepared to flatten Adler at her merest signal.

Instead, she raised her chin, shifting her gaze beyond Lafayette while releasing an exaggerated bored sigh.

One corner of Lafayette’s mouth quirked and bitterly, he said. “ _Par Dieu,_ I see, I was mistaken. _Mademoiselle_ Suzanne was merely practicin’ her pleasantries while awaitin’ deeper pockets.”

Suzanne flinched, and he felt no remorse. In less than ten minutes, she had displayed more of her genuine self than he could have learned in a month of visits.

“Just know, Crowe.” Adler barked, laying his hand atop Suzanne’s. “She is mine.”

“If’n, that is so William, I must warn _vous;_ such an enchanting _fille_ should not be left unattended.”

William bared his teeth in a smile that held no friendliness. “Lafayette Crowe, I am of a mind, no lady should be left unattended with the _likes_ of you about.”

Lafayette reared a little, thinking. ‘I would be within _m’_ rights to challenge him to a duel for his cloaked accusation.’ Yet, looking again to Suzanne, he saw her for what she was and broke into a low profound cackle. “ _Vous_ were made for each other. Have a _merveilleux_ day; I wish _vous m’ très_ best.”

Turning from them, he strolled away. ‘Does chaff _m’_ hide though,’ he grumbled inwardly, ‘the way I allowed her to bait _moi_ into her _petite_ game.’ The more he considered it, his nose wrinkled with disgust and looking about, he thought. ‘Damnation, cannot recall a social I ain’t had a _fille_ on _m’_ arm.’

While doing so, he spotted a collection of ladies near the rose garden, their fluttering dresses bringing to mind a blush of butterflies. Smoothing his hair, he muttered, “ _Par Dieu,_ I ain’t got any intentions on lettin’ this be the start of a run of _mal_ luck. Has to be, at least, _une_ of ‘em, who would be interested in dancin’ with _moi.”_

Passing through the arched arbor of the rose garden, the ladies favored him with gracious smiles, forthwith bolstering Lafayette’s tarnished pride, a few being so bold as to call his name. From that moment, he chatted, laughed, and waltzed with a bevy of Missouri belles. Bantering happily amongst them, he came across Celia.


	17. chapter FOURTEEN

Chapter Fourteen

Ms. Celia Aine Sheldon was summering with distant family in Harrisonville. At a glance, she was an average Irish Missouri girl; not even her dark russet hair made her the sort to catch the eye. Though she was attired nicely, it was not in the latest fashion, and this, combined with her athletic figure, clearly announced she was not a town girl or even of the upper social crust.

Which was true, for Celia’s family home was a farm. Not a large one, still a decent piece of land; more importantly, her family name was respected throughout their county of Cedar. Despite this, her Father, Terrell Sheldon, had been unable to find his youngest a suitable husband, and hoping for better results elsewhere, had sent her visiting.

“Is that your entire reason for bein’ up here?” Lafayette asked.

Earlier, when he met Celia in the rose garden, they had been casually speaking when the skipping beats of “The Echo Waltz” rolled across the yard. It being one of Lafayette’s favorites, he impulsively asked her to dance. That had been more than two hours ago.

After dancing several more songs, they strolled the picnic; she cheered him during a game of horseshoes, even bringing him chilled lemonade when he was done. And, for some reason, he could not answer. He had not told her _adieu,_ moving on to mingle with others…as was his usual. Although Lafayette had admitted to himself, he enjoyed her laughter and how it made him feel like doing the same. He also admired her lack of coy, false demureness, which seemed socially prescribed for all unwed ladies.

The truth was, he found Celia utterly refreshing. So much so, that even now, as she spoke of her father’s desire to have her married, he found himself nodding along in understanding, thinking, ‘if’n that ain’t exactly _qu’elle m’ famille_ has herdin’ _moi_ toward.’

Yet, when her story's plot revealed her father’s hopes that one of Colonel Younger’s boys would marry her, Lafayette felt a twinge of jealousy. More than a twinge, it ripped through him so abruptly, he about pulled away from her. Instead, though, he spun them across the floor, asking himself, ‘ _pourquoi_ should her marryin’ a Younger disturb _moi_?’

As the dance settled into the slower movements, he asked. “So, his plan was for _une_ of ‘em to choose you as theirs?”

“It was,” Celia answered with an airy laugh. “But I suspect Pap will be gettin’ me back, come end of the month. Truth is, all them Youngers are a cheerful lot, and they all treat me like a lil’ sis.” She rolled her eyes, “exactly like a sis.”

Relief that confused Lafayette washed over him, and he spun Celia, watching her flashing smile until, with the last closing bars of the reel, he brought her securely back into his arms.

Releasing an exaggerated sigh, she asked, “Might we take a break.”

His mouth twisted to the side, “Why? Ain’t you been enjoyin’ yourself?”

“Very much so.” She raised an eyebrow mischievously, “and, even better, you ain’t tromped on my toes once. However, after six straight dances…” She grinned, shaking her head, “I got me another reason.” Gripping his shoulder, Celia clandestinely whispered, “Exceptin’, I been told as a lady, I ain’t supposed to mention it.”

Lafayette’s face pinched, just the tiniest bit.

Giggling and rolling her eyes, Celia patted her slender waistline.

A bit loudly, Lafayette said. “Oh! I got _sœurs_ …sisters,” he nodded, knowingly, “I suspect your air is bein’ cut off by your--” He stopped speaking, his eyes widening.

“Why Lafayette Crowe…” her eyes crinkled merrily at the corners, “you were not fixin’ to speak aloud...” she tilted her head at him, “… ‘bout my unmentionables.”

His ears crimsoned, the color expanding until his cheeks and nose matched.

“Oh, my!” A lilting laugh burst from Celia, “the sun seems to be burnin’ you up.”

Lafayette’s eyes darted anxiously to the other couples exiting the dance floor to see if they noticed, or worse, overheard him.

Tiptoeing up to his ear, Celia said, “or, did I just make you blush?”

“Well, I--”

Snagging his hand, she playfully tugged him after her, “well, we just must find you some shade, cannot have you burnin’ up.”

Laughing at her antics, he allowed her to tug him along, his eyes watching her hoop skirt as it swayed with her hurried steps. Except, once they were under the low, hanging limbs of an old Oak, he brought them to a halt.

She tilted her face to him, and he felt a prickly rush of heat sweep across him. ‘Ain’t ever seen a dusting of freckles like she has across her nose and cheeks.’ He thought, his eyes darting back and forth across her face, ‘ _jamais_ realized how attractive freckles were.’

Under intense gaze, Celia drug an eye tooth across her lower lip, and with a timid grin, she said. “I am delighted I met you.”

A thrill rushed through Lafayette at her words, but all he could think was ‘ _qu’elle_ is happenin’?’

At his lack of response, Celia tilted her head to the side, a corner of her mouth pulling down as she studied him.

“ _Mes apologies…_ I have enjoyed meetin’ you. It has been quite amusin’.”

Celia’s gaze shifted beyond the leaf laden boughs they were secluded under, and with a nod, she tightly answered. “Sounds ‘bout like…” except, her words fell away with a sigh.

Lafayette’s nose wrinkled as he cursed himself, ‘Quite amusing! Did I _vraiment_ just say that!?!?’ He licked his lower lip, watching one of her escaped stray curls flutter in the breeze. ‘ _Feu de l'enfer_ , why are you so worried? She is only _fille_ at a party. Ain’t you got other plans?’ Licking his lips again, he leaned out to catch her eye, “ _Mlle._ Celia?’

After swallowing hard, her eyes flicked to him, just long enough for him to notice the hazel color had shifted to the soft green of cut alfalfa.

“ _Qu’elle_ is it, _Chérie?_ ”

Straightening her shoulders, she stiffly replied, “I was going to say, it sounds ‘bout like what Cole told me.” Twisting her neck, she eyed the sunny lawn, swallowing at the tightness in her throat, “Amusing….Yep! That sounds just like what I am often told, and the exact reason I am always treated as a Lil’ Sis.”

Dashing a hand across her lashes, Celia inwardly chided herself, ‘Well, you have gone and said more than you should, again. Ain’t this what Pap means ‘bout not needin’ to speak all that is on your mind.’

In his chest, Lafayette’s heart was lurching like he had been running a race, and clenching his hands along his legs, he solemnly whispered, “I was not tryin’ to hurt you, _Mlle._ Celia, _mez,_ sincere _apologies._ ”

Through a chuckle tinged with bitterness, she replied. “Of course, you were not. You…Cole…all y’all are just alike.”

Stepping about, so he was once more facing her, he bent a touch to catch her eye, “How is that?”

Rolling her eyes, she sniffed. “Really, it is fine. Really it is. It is just fine.” She patted the air with her hands, smiling. “If’n like Cole, you enjoy me as pal, who you happen to deem is a right fine dancer. Then Lafayette, I would be pleased to dance with you whenever you wish…” she swallowed tightly, “as _your_ _pal_.”

Taking half a step back from the anger buried in her forced cheerfulness, Lafayette huskily murmured, “that would please _moi_ also.”

She nodded primly, “thought so, so it is best I cleared things ‘tween us.”

“How so?”

“Just wanted you to know, even though all y’all males do not understand me, I do recognize how y’all…” She waved a hand at the party beyond them, “are looking for the perfect missus.” She grinned brilliantly at him, “which does not include girls, who are pals, who speak their minds.” Pushing forth a laugh, she fingered the small locket on her necklace and briskly shook her head, setting the ringlets at the nape of her neck to bobbing. “Really, I feel sorry for Pap. Here he bet on me catchin’ a husband from my Cass cousins.” With another shake, her cheerfulness slipped, and she bitterly grumbled, “ain’t no chance of that.”

“No chance, huh?”

Bowing her head, she nodded.

“Why? ‘Cause they do not understand you?”

She looked up sharply, her hazel-green eyes squinting at Lafayette.

He smiled at the fire he saw sparking there. “Well, I agree. They most likely do not understand you. Been havin’ a time understandin’ _qu’elle_ you are doin’ to _moi_.”

Celia’s eyes narrowed more, and she took a step back.

Catching her hands, Lafayette smiled shyly. “See, you have set all sorts of queries flopping ‘bout inside _m’_ head. Like why you being upset should make _m’_ chest ache?”

Her head tilted.

“Or how….” He raised her hands, nestled in his, and looking from them to her, “how holdin’ your hands make _m’_ skin tingle.”

Her eyes widened just a bit.

“And, how, when you smile, I get this hitch right here…” Stepping closer, he placed her hand to his chest. “Do you see, Celia, how I might need your help... better understandin’ _qu’elle_ I am feelin’.”

She found his intensity made it hard for her to breathe and clamping her eyes shut, Celia drew in a long, quivering breath.

When she did, Lafayette misread her, leaping away. “Oh, _Zut,_ I am an _imbécile_.” Roughly running a hand through his hair, he gasped, “it is Cole you have feelings for.” Stumbling back another step, he shook his head. “And he is even a larger _imbécile_ than I ‘cause he cannot see it.”

Celia’s eyes popped wide open, as did her mouth.

“Why did I not see that?” Lafayette muttered, more to himself, his left dimple flickering. “Suppose ‘cause like I said, I am an _imbécile_ , _mes apologies, Mlle. Celia, m’ apologies_ here I am, well, I am….anyway. Now I know, you been tryin’ to cover how you feel ‘bout Cole _.”_

Tilting her head again, Celia took a step after Lafayette, thinking, ‘is that pain in his eyes?’ Then what he was babbling made sense. She rushed to him, grabbing his hands. “I have no feelings for Cole beyond that of family.”

His mouth twitched in his tense face, _“vraiment?”_

“What?”

A slow boyish grin, the likes of which she had not seen all day, appeared, “you have _non_ passion for Cole?”

Finding his chagrin even more charming than his earlier blushes, she giggled, “no, I do not and never will.”

“ _Vraiment…Really and truly_!?”

Through a toothy smile, Celia nodded and giggled, “really and truly.”

Throwing back his head, Lafayette released a rumbling laugh. “ _Par Dieu, Mlle._ Celia, you must dance with _moi_ , ‘cause I feel too jubilant to be still.”

“Uh-uh, wait!” Celia replied, and crossing her arms, she raised her right eyebrow in a perfect sharp arch. “First, what were you just tryin’ to say to me?”

Laughing a bit too loudly, Lafayette replied, “I am not sure.” Stealing one of her hands, he kissed it, his eyes gleaming. “But I am sure, right now, I want to dance.” Wrapping her hand about his arm, he beamed down at her, “and, above all, I _want_ to dance with _you_.”

And he did.

Lafayette kept Celia in his arms on the dance floor, even as other couples came and went until the musicians declared they were taking a respite.

Coming down the steps of the raised wooden floor, Celia bumped against Lafayette, asking, “now what?”

“Suppose we could eat.”

“I am famished; lead the way.”

They had not gone far before Lafayette spun to ask a question, but he did it so swiftly, Celia crashed into him. Before his ingrained morals or training kicked in, he closed the short distance between them with a kiss.

Beneath his lips, Celia stiffened.

Jerking away, he cried, “ _mes apologies_ , I do not know _qu’elle_ came over _moi._ I am sincerely apologetic, _Mlle_. Celia, sincerely, I am.”

From behind the fingers, she had pressed to her lips, a grin appeared. Casting a hurried look about them, to see that none were close enough to overhear, she answered. “Do not be apologizin’, unless you are never plannin’ on doin’ that again.”

Color bloomed bright in his face.

“Did I just make you blush… again?”

“You seem to have an uncanny knack for it.”

“What am I to do with you, Lafayette?”

Checking they were still alone, he throatily whispered, “you can start by callin’ _moi,_ Lafe.” Taking her in his arms, he savored her soft floral scent followed by the softer feel of her mouth beneath his.

Pulling free with a gasp, she giggled, “now who is being forward?”

“Oh, most certainly, _moi._ ”

She peered closely at him, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Perhaps, we are meant for each other.”

Abruptly, Lafayette looked to his hand holding hers, a few strands of his hair slipping across his forehead, and when he peeked through them at her, there was uncertainty clouding his face. “Would you like if’n we were?”

She nodded, her eyes glistening.

“I suppose it is something we two should consider on.”

Squeezing his hand, she replied. “I suppose it is.”

With a triumphant grin, he tucked her hand about his arm, escorting her to a relatively secluded spot near the barbeque.

“I can get my own food, Lafe.”

“I know you can.” He replied, assisting her to a thick patch of clover. “But allow _moi.”_

After having finished off smoked hickory pork, sweet corn, deviled eggs, golden potato salad, molasses baked beans, dilled cucumbers, and slices of paw-paw pie, Lafayette moved their plates aside to recline closer to her. As he did so, he could feel himself smiling like a fool but could not help himself. For when he had been away from Celia, he found himself feeling oddly parched, and right now, he just wanted to drink her in.

Pausing in the story she was telling, Celia popped open her fan, fluttering it, so the breeze took in both of them as she canted an eye to the cloudless sky. “Good gracious, but it is turnin’ hot.”

“Want _moi_ to fetch you something cool?”

“No, what I want. . .” she arched a brow, curling a finger, beckoning him closer.

Unsure but intrigued, he leaned in.

“Is for you to escort me to some shade,” and with her fan spread before them, she hastily placed a quick kiss on his rounded cheekbone.

Immediately, his mouth turned toward her.

Surmising what he was about to do, she drew back, thinking, ‘we ain’t careful, we are goin’ ruin both of reputations in one swell swoop.’ Arching her brow at him, once more, she shook her head, letting him know he was over-stepping.

“ _Mes apologies._ ”

“You tend to say that a lot.”

“ _M’_ Mams says it is because I am too impetuous, _jamais…._ never lookin’ but always doin’.”

“She may have a point,” Celia answered, but taking his hand in hers, she squeezed it. “Shade.”

Grinning, with a bit of shame, he stood, lifting Celia to her feet.

Taking his arm, she waved a hand between them. “So…you ready to elaborate on what you were rambling ‘bout under the Oak earlier?”

“Still considerin’. _”_

“You are, are you?”

He nodded.

“Is you considerin’ how to keep up with a gal who speaks her own mind?”

“Oh, that ain’t _qu’elle_ I am considerin’ as I like the way you speak, Celia. _Vraiment,_ I do.”

“Hmmm?” She arched a brow at him. “Well, shall we join others under the awning tents?”

He nodded in agreement, yet as they moved that direction, spied dark pools of shade expanding along the property's west side. Exchanging pleasantries with various neighbors who called out, he steered them on to the west, and in short order, they were alone on a raised hill. “Thinkin’, we might catch more air up here.”

Motioning to the old arbor sagging beneath the weight of mock orange vines, Celia said, “That itty bitty bench ain’t gonna hold both of’n us.”

Urging her to sit, he sank to the ground, “I will be right fine here at your knee.”

“I feel silly with you down there.”

“Well, Celia, I feel perfectly happy,” Lafayette answered, leaning his back against the arbor and propping an elbow on the bench. “Go on and finish your story ‘bout the wheel comin’ off the wagon.”

Leaning his chin on his hand, he studied her while she spoke, his mind drifting in what, for him, were confusing thoughts. ‘Could we be made for each other? But I ain’t searchin’ for a _femme._ Still, it is like we have known each other _toujours._ _Non._ More like findin’ a part of _mon_ self I did not know was missin’.’ He leaned in a bit closer to her. ‘And if’n she ain’t got _moi_ feelin’ downright intoxicated…I feel giddy….cannot cease smilin’….did not like bein’ away from ‘er….and _zut_ but the desire to kiss ‘er again just keeps buildin’ in _moi._ ’ Considering all this, he began gnawing at the corner of his mouth, ‘ _grace de Dieu,_ am I … _non…_ that ain’t possible. But I sure feel like I--’

“Lafe?”

With a jolt, he came back, a slow smile creeping across his face.

“I was gonna ask if I was boring you? Ceptin’, you look so sly. I believe I should find out, instead, what you were contemplatin’.”

Taking her hand, he kissed it, his dimples making him appear even more mischievous.

“Yes, Siree, I should most assuredly find out what you were contemplatin’?”

He laughed.

She dropped her elbow to her knee, placing her chin in her palm to stare at him.

“Ah, _Mlle._ Celia _..._ I—”  
“Stop,” she grinned, “if’n, I am to call you Lafe.” She rolled her eyes with a playful grin,

“then you must cease callin’ me mademoiselle every time you say my name.”

“I was bein’ polite.”

“I know you are, but somehow, I feel just sayin’ my name is fine.”

Lafayette looked down and then peered happily up at her. “Celia…” He paused like tasting a sweet wine, “Celia, I was considerin’ how everything I have been extolling, for more than a year, is fixin’ to become the satire _m’ famille_ shall use against _moi_ for the rest of _m’_ days.”

A tiny frown formed between Celia’s brows.

He thought, ‘I sure would like to kiss her.’

At his silent staring, she laughed, “you driftin’ off again?”

“ _Non._ I am not; I am here.”

“Yes, you were.” She replied, leaning her forearms on her knees and bending down close to look him fully in the eyes. “Are you plannin’ on _extolling_ _to me_ what you have rambled on ‘about off and on today?”

“Still, tryin’ to put it all together in _m’_ mind...” and, feeling his face warming, he bowed his head.

“Are you blushin’ again?”

His head popped up.

They were nose to nose, and she winked, “you are.”

His face flamed cherry red, and her laughter covered them both with its music.

“Ain’t a soul ever made _moi_ blush the way you have this day.” He ran a hand back through his hair, so his dark bangs fell across his forehead in a tumbled, puckish mess.

Placing her mouth near his ear, she whispered, “I adore your blushes.”

He turned, catching her mouth this time. Their kiss deepened with each breath, clearly, conveying their building hunger.

Shifting, she placed her hands against him, pushing herself away.

His mouth popped open to speak.

Gently she placed her fingers to it, “Shhh, no apologies.” Sliding her hand over, she cupped his cheek with a bemused grin, sighing, “Oh, Lafe.” Her eyes roved across his face, returning to his full, moist lips. “I really should scold you.”

He nodded agreement, and taking her hand, kissed its palm. “The way of it is.” He took a breath, “you see, well, today, I been comin’ to an understanding--”

Just as he prepared to tell her, he finally understood why people married, there was a tap on his shoulder, and his back went rigid. ‘Non! If’n I do not acknowledge, then there is _non une_ there.’

Celia’s eyes flicked to above and behind him.

‘Perhaps they will just go away if’n I ignore them,’ Lafayette thought, his eyes taking in each part of Celia’s face sprinkled with freckles. ‘I do not want this moment to end. _Jamais_ would have thought that possible. But there ain’t another like Celia Ann….and…’ He could hear, whoever it was, shifting behind him, and his irritation began to bloom, and with it, he decided. ‘I am done considerin’, whatever may happen next, I damn-well ain’t lettin’ anyone else have ‘er, not even Cole Younger.’ Tilting his head back, he discovered it to be Jackson, and he looked as anxious as a man cornered by a razorback.

“I need to speak with you, Bub.”

Lafayette frowned darkly.

“Now, Bub.”

Releasing Celia’s hand, Lafayette said, “It appears I must excuse _mon_ self.”

“Of course, Lafe, of course,” and as he rose to his feet, her eyes flicked, again, to Jackson.

Seeing her do so, Lafayette quickly said, " _Mes excuses, m’ Chérie,_ this here is _m’_ closest _ami,_ _M._ Jackson Arthur Ericksen." Then with a smile that lit him up, Lafayette motioned, “And, Jackson, I am most pleased to introduce you to _Mlle._ Celia Aine Sheldon."

Jackson’s face twisted, a cracked grimace emerging that Lafayette felt sure was supposed to be a smile. "Very nice to meet you, Ma’am, and my apologies, but I truly have need of Lafe.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ericksen, now go on and take ‘em,” she insisted, passing Lafayette a wane, soft smile. “It surely appears, a grave matter is at hand.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Jackson responded, grabbing Lafayette’s arm. He drug him to his feet, propelling him in the direction of the main house.

Once out of hearing range, Lafayette shook free, yelping, " _Feu de l'enfer_ , this better damn-well be _bonne?!”_

"Look!"

"Where?"

Physically shoving Lafayette around, Jackson jabbed an arm toward the dance floor. “There!”

Lafayette blanched, "How long this been goin’ on?"

“Too long to be measured… shall we say well-mannered.” Jackson flung his head toward the front terrace, his long bangs flopping out of his eyes to fall slipshod alongside his face. “ _Par Dieu,_ Lafe, I been searchin’ for you. ‘Cause, this is more than your family’s name at stake; a number of the gents are getting’ right bowed up ‘bout this.”


	18. Chapter FIFTEEN

Chapter Fifteen

A collection of Federal soldiers, in vibrant blue uniforms, were spread about the lawn wearing expressions that dared anyone to suggest they should leave as the partook of all the picnic had to offer. Lafayette’s eyes widened as they swept across his neighbors, and absorbing their emotions, tense anger filled him, his face pinching tight. “Who are they with?”

“Part of Lyon’s Brigade.” Jackson replied, “they claim to be safeguardin’ this section.”

“Lyon? Do not recognize the _nom._ ”

“Me neither and but word goin’ round is they are stationed out of Lawrence or Aubrey.”

Lafayette felt a hitch in his chest at Jackson’s answer, and guardedly he asked, “How long they been here?”

“Rode in more than an hour ago and went right about makin’ themselves comfortable. Colonel’s been…” Jackson gestured to several various groups containing their friends, “lettin’ ‘em know, he is adamant, he wants no form of engagement at his home.’ A bitter snort escaped Jackson, “says we are to show the blues the same hospitality our Mothers would invitin’ a traveler into her home.”

Lafayette’s face contorted, “ _qu’elle?_ ” and he turned a stunned to his friend.

“Essentially…he wants us all to be the epitome of the hospitality we Southerners are known for.”

“Humph!”

“Yep,” Jackson replied with a nod, dropping an arm about Lafayette’s shoulders. “However, as you can see, Josie’s overtly hospitable manner is pokin’ the bear, so to say.”

Lafayette ran a hand through his hair.

“She has been dancin’ with that Lieutenant for…” Jackson grunted, shaking his head, “almost since he arrived. I tried to cut in earlier, so did Dick, but you know how Josie can be.”

Releasing a harsh breath, Lafayette groaned, “so it is up to _moi_ to get _her_ to break off and behave.”

Jackson nodded solemnly, “God help you, Bub.”

With a weary sigh, Lafayette’s shoulders drooped.

Clapping him on the back, Jackson chuckled warmly. “Damn excellent; you met that gal. Otherwise, I would say this ain’t been your day at all, Bub.”

Lafayette’s smile snapped in place. “ _Oui._ Whatever we have to say ‘bout this picnic in times to come…. all of it was worthwhile to have met Celia.”

Flicking his bangs back for a clearer look at his friend, Jackson asked, “did you find _the_ _one_?”

A majestic shining smile took over Lafayette’s face.

Shoving him, Jackson chortled, “thought you were not lookin’.”

Lafayette shrugged.

“Hold on now, ain’t you the one, been tellin’ all a gal would be…”

The bright smile sagged, looking a bit sickly.

“...an impediment, no wait…an incumbrance, or maybe it was both.”

“I am cognizant of what I been sayin’.”

Jackson laughed warmly, gripping his friend's shoulder, and shaking him. “So, you deem you…. YOU are in love?”

Rubbing at his eye, Lafayette grinned.

“What are times comin’ to when one lil’ freckle-faced gal can turn Lafayette Henri Begnoir upside down, proving ‘em wrong, and so swiftly, too.”

The sheepish grin grew bolder.

“Hell, you are smitten, Bub.” Jackson’s blue eyes sparkled, his smile filling with sheer happiness. “Well, you best go back and make a better farewell afore you deal with Josie.”

Lafayette looked to the lawn and bit his lip.

“She already has them all in knots; go say a proper farewell.”

Racing back, Lafayette ducked under the mock orange vines smothering the arbor, and the moment Celia saw him, her eyes lit up.

Dropping to a knee, he took her hand, kissing it. “ _Mon Chérie,_ I offer you _m’_ humblest regrets it appears _famille_ _devoir…_ duties, truly do require _m’_ attention.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips across hers, “However, Celia, _Chérie,_ I _promesse_ , even while I am away, _m’_ thoughts will be of you.”

Trailing her fingers from his temple down along his face, she noted an uneasy tension had taken up residence there, and something about it made her feel a bit cold. “What has happened?”

“It is only a trifle, naught to concern you. Will you _, s'il vous plaît_ …please _,_ wait for _moi?_ ”

“Hmmm?” She wrinkled her nose, “am I to turn down all offers of marriage and such?”

Lafayette blanched, his dark brows pulling together so sharp it caused Celia a pang of regret. “I was only teasin’. You can be assured, Lafe, I will wait for you.”

Kissing her palm, he passed her a grin, “then I _promesse_ to come back.”

Before he made it more than a few steps, Celia jumped up, calling in a strangled voice, “Lafe?”

Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled to her, “ _moi,_ too… _à bientôt_ _.”_

Placing a hand to the soft of her throat, she tried to catch her breath as he walked from sight. Closing her eyes, she sank to the bench, softly saying, “I think I am really…” she giggled, “or as he would say _vraiment_ in love.” Tracing her thumb over where he had kissed her palm, she breathed deep. ‘Do I trust he feels the same?’

Moving down the hill, Lafayette wove through his neighbors like wind through a sapling grove, refusing any who approached with a shake of his head. ‘ _Chiant!_ ’ he thought, snorting his frustration. ‘Sure, as rain, this is goin’ to get back to Father, and he is goin’ to come flat down on _moi.”_

On reaching the dance platform, he started right up the steps and then froze. ‘I should wait ‘till the damn song is done, charging out there....’ He frowned, ‘well, it ain’t civilized or…hospitable.’

Returning to the grass, he crossed his arms, waiting for the final strains of the lively Polka Redowa Waltz, and standing there, he became conscious of the outraged image he was presenting. Smoothing the frown from his face, he uncrossed his arms, slipping his thumbs into his vest pockets. As he did, he saw Colonel Barnett nodding approvingly, and he nodded back.

“Now, Bub, do not start a row.”

“Damnation, Jackson, I know that much.” Lafayette flicked his chin toward Joséphine, “if’n I wanted a _mêlée_ , I would already be out there.”

“True,” Jackson answered, tilting his head, he softly said. “Maybe being a gal, Josie is unaware of the atrocities that have been comin’ out of Kansas.”

“Most likely,” Lafayette responded, watching their neighbors from the corners of his eyes. “However, it does not matter; they is all starin’ at her like she is the viper in the garden.”

“Still, I am bettin’ she just does not understand.”

The corner of Lafayette’s mouth crooked up sardonically, “Oh, I am damn positive, Jackson, she has _non_ idea with each step she is smearing her _nom_ along with that of our _famille.”_

As the musicians released the waltz’s last chord, Lafayette glanced once to the Colonel then climbed the stairs with Jackson, two steps behind.

Reading anger beneath her brother’s composed expression, Joséphine hastily slipped from her dance partner’s embrace, saying. “I do believe I am rather desperate for a cool drink. If’n it would be no trouble, Sean, would you mind fetchin’ me a draught of somethin’ sweet?”

“It would be my pleasure.” The tall, redheaded lieutenant replied, giving her hand a teasing squeeze.

Darting her eyes to her brother, she answered quickly, “wonderful; I will meet you down by the Walnut tree.”

“And, Josie, I shall return to your side in a jiffy.” Spinning, the Lieutenant brushed past Lafayette without a glance.

For a full breath, the siblings carefully studied one another.

During which Lafayette thought, ‘all you need do is get her to cease fraternizing with this particular dance partner.’ Sucking at the inside of his cheek, he told himself, ‘just remain _diplomatique_ and do not let her start a _mêlée_.’ Taking a step toward her, he rolled out a smile. “Hey, _Chérie_ , I would say you have danced enough.” However, despite what he had told himself, he heard the bitter bite in his voice, and by the wrinkle appearing in the bridge of Joséphine’s nose, so did she.

Before she could react, Lafayette snagged her hand, tucking it about his arm and hustling them down the steps, out onto the lawn. “Come now, you seem rather _fatigué_ , _m'_ _Chérie_.”

Pushing her mouth up next to his ear, she hissed, “little late to be showin’ me concern; you shoulda done that afore you chose Hannah Baker over me.”

Peeking across at her, Lafayette said, “and I _apologize_ for that _._ ”

“I ain’t takin’ your apology, Lafe, and you can cease herdin’ me ‘bout.”

“I ain’t herdin’ you; it is like I said, you look awfully tired. Think how _bonne_ a respite in the shade with the _mesdemoiselles_ would feel.”

“I ain’t tired, and I ain’t going take a seat in the shade.” Determined to have her way, Joséphine dug in her heels.

Feeling her do so, he grasped tighter of her hand, “Still, I feel you should come along with _moi_.”

Her eyes narrow and tight, she remained firmly planted, refusing to take another step.

“ _Zut!_ Jo walk.”

“Lafe, I ain’t sure what sort of damn burr is under your blanket, but I am _still_ downright angry with you, and you ain’t improvin’ matters. Now, you let go of me!”

His head turned slowly, like a dog to an unrecognizable sound, and ever so low, he hissed, "Joséphine Michelle Antoinette."

Her lip curled, and she responded in kind, "Lafayette Henri Begnoir."

Leaning close, his cheek against hers, he snarled in a low whisper, “ _Fille_ , trust _moi._ This here ain’t a quarrel you want to start; just come along _._ "

"I can make my own choices, Lafe, and right ‘bout now; I want to dance and have a bit of fun without you harassin’ me.” Then, like a headstrong yearling, she jerked back, tearing her hand from his grip.

_"Jésus a pleuré, Jo, écoute-moi et conduis-toi. Avec la politique et les tensions telles qu'elles sont, nous ne pouvons pas perdre la confiance et la confiance de nos voisins."_ _**[1]** _

“Break that off!” She snapped. “Does you no good to babble on at me in French, you rightly know, I cannot keep up. If'n you want to state a case, you do it in plain ol’ American English."

Glancing at their neighbors, who were pretending not to listen, Lafayette sighed. "All right,” he extended his hands to her palms up. “You are correct; you can make your own choices. So, if’n, you still feel like dancin’. I would be pleased to take you for a twirl.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Perhaps, not _moi,_ ” Lafayette gestured to his pal. “How about Jackson?"

Shaking her head, she placed a finger to her mouth, thinking, ‘If’n he is not upset with me, havin’ a good time… then what in Hades has him bunched up?’

“Come on, Jo, Honey... _Chérie_ , there are plenty here who would be delighted to dance with you.” Lafayette tried to smile, but it held no sincerity. “ _S'il vous plaît,_ Jo, just cease dancin’ with that Lieutenant?”

Her mouth popped open, and then fast as a coin flip, her whole face pinched, her eyes becoming thin slits.

‘ _Bordel de merde_ , she is goin’ throw _un_ of her fits.’ Lafayette thought, edging closer, he pleaded, “s _’il vous plaît,_ Jo, this once for _moi_ , _s’il vous plaît_.”

“Humph!” She grunted, placing her hands on her hips. “Why would I do anything for you? Did you not hear me say I am still mad at you? Besides…why should I cease dancin’ with Sean? He is charmin’ and a swell dancer.”

“Jo, there are others here who are charmin’ and _bonne_ dancers.”

She rubbed at the side of her neck, “You ain’t makin’ any sense at all.” With a shake of her head, she turned to walk off, and Lafayette grabbed her arm. Freezing, she looked pointedly at his hand.

He let go.

Crossing her arms, she hissed, “ _Frère,_ you best leave me be.”

Even as Lafayette felt everyone watching, all he knew of the Border difficulties ran through his mind. Suddenly, everything, this moment here, and all the world felt like it was spinning out of control. When clearer than anything he had ever experienced, he realized all he wanted was to return to Celia’s side. The corners of his mouth dipped, his eyes softening. “Jo, _s’il vous plaît_.”

“I said, leave me be.” She waved a hand at him, “go away!”

Something about her dismissing him this way set his anger into motion, and with a bitter laugh, he said. "I see you want to do this the hard way."

Behind him, Jackson gulped, "Uh, Bub, maybe you ought not--"

“You want to put on a memorable show…” Lafayette stepped right up into his sister’s face. “Very well, then listen close, ‘cause everyone else is.”

A vein popped in Joséphine’s forehead, her lips thinning to a tight line.

“See, the way of it is _Bébé_ _Sœur;_ you are offendin’ our neighbors. Before you ask, I will explain...” He nodded toward a pair of Federal soldiers not too far off, “you have chosen to dance with a man who is viewed with suspicion, even hostility. Moreover, if’n you do not cease, you are likely as not to touch off a _mêlée_ that will end in sprayin’ blood all over this here lawn. Now, as your elder, I am orderin’ you to come along with _moi_ and cease dallying with this Lieutenant.”

Joséphine scanned the soldiers and coming back to her brother’s stony eyes, and dancing left dimple, she said. “Do you realize how you sound?” She shook her head, her face shifting to a perfect image of disgust. “I suppose not, but there is no possible way you can force me to your way of thinkin’!”

Lafayette canted his eyes to Jackson, who raising his hands, backed away with a shrug.

Stepping closer, Joséphine poked Lafayette in the chest. “In fact, let me tell _you_ what I think…it is _you_ who has lost _your_ composure. Father says we all are part of the Union, so why are you scoldin’ me like some border patroller?” She poked him again. “You sound utterly ridiculous.” She poked him a third time.

Lafayette’s black eyes flicked the finger-jabbing him, and he stepped out of her reach, sorting through his remaining options.

"You can go right on believin’ what you wish. Except you leave me out of it, but I, for one, am not listenin’ to it no more. Just leave me be.” As she barked the final words, Joséphine gave Lafayette a shove.

It was not much more than she would have done back home if they were arguing over this or that. However, they were not at Sienna, and his uncertainty shriveled before his rising anger.

Leaping forward, he pushed his lips to her ear, rage strangulating his voice, making it sound hoarse. “ **I do not give a damn if ‘n** you believe _moi._ You already damaged your _reputation,_ and I will be cursed to hell, afore I allow you to endanger our _familles_. This all has gone far enough, do not be forcin’ _m’_ hand. If’n you do, Joséphine, I--"

Knocking him in the chest with her fist, she cut him off, "What? You will do what!?"

"I will drag you home, and _non_ amount of cursin’ will stop _moi_.”

Her eyes sparkled at his challenge, a malicious grin inching its way across her face. “Lafayette Henri, you lay one finger on me, and _you_ will regret it! I will scream and set into you like _you ain’t ever seen_. Moreover, despite what you think, Lt. O’Rourke has treated me like a lady. Unlike someone!” Finding perverse pleasure in disobeying, her smile grew bigger. “Frankly, believe, I will take Sean up on his offer to go ridin’ later. ‘Course, that is _after_ I eat with 'em at the evenin’ feast.”

“I suppose you better start screamin’,” Lafayette replied, snatching both her wrists in an iron grip. “Cause as long I have a breath in _moi_ , I ain’t allowin’ any of that to happen.”

Tugging furiously against him, Joséphine squalled, “you best be lettin' go of me!"

Despite her protestations, Lafayette kept on for the stables.

Finding that clawing, dragging her feet, and jerking back was gaining her little; she shrieked, “ _Zut!_ Release me!”

“I will release you only to Father.”

Chapter Fifteen

A collection of Federal soldiers, in vibrant blue uniforms, were spread about the lawn wearing expressions that dared anyone to suggest they should leave as the partook of all the picnic had to offer. Lafayette’s eyes widened as they swept across his neighbors, and absorbing their emotions, tense anger filled him, his face pinching tight. “Who are they with?”

“Part of Lyon’s Brigade.” Jackson replied, “they claim to be safeguardin’ this section.”

“Lyon? Do not recognize the _nom._ ”

“Me neither and but word goin’ round is they are stationed out of Lawrence or Aubrey.”

Lafayette felt a hitch in his chest at Jackson’s answer, and guardedly he asked, “How long they been here?”

“Rode in more than an hour ago and went right about makin’ themselves comfortable. Colonel’s been…” Jackson gestured to several various groups containing their friends, “lettin’ ‘em know, he is adamant, he wants no form of engagement at his home.’ A bitter snort escaped Jackson, “says we are to show the blues the same hospitality our Mothers would invitin’ a traveler into her home.”

Lafayette’s face contorted, “ _qu’elle?_ ” and he turned a stunned to his friend.

“Essentially…he wants us all to be the epitome of the hospitality we Southerners are known for.”

“Humph!”

“Yep,” Jackson replied with a nod, dropping an arm about Lafayette’s shoulders. “However, as you can see, Josie’s overtly hospitable manner is pokin’ the bear, so to say.”

Lafayette ran a hand through his hair.

“She has been dancin’ with that Lieutenant for…” Jackson grunted, shaking his head, “almost since he arrived. I tried to cut in earlier, so did Dick, but you know how Josie can be.”

Releasing a harsh breath, Lafayette groaned, “so it is up to _moi_ to get _her_ to break off and behave.”

Jackson nodded solemnly, “God help you, Bub.”

With a weary sigh, Lafayette’s shoulders drooped.

Clapping him on the back, Jackson chuckled warmly. “Damn excellent; you met that gal. Otherwise, I would say this ain’t been your day at all, Bub.”

Lafayette’s smile snapped in place. “ _Oui._ Whatever we have to say ‘bout this picnic in times to come…. all of it was worthwhile to have met Celia.”

Flicking his bangs back for a clearer look at his friend, Jackson asked, “did you find _the_ _one_?”

A majestic shining smile took over Lafayette’s face.

Shoving him, Jackson chortled, “thought you were not lookin’.”

Lafayette shrugged.

“Hold on now, ain’t you the one, been tellin’ all a gal would be…”

The bright smile sagged, looking a bit sickly.

“...an impediment, no wait…an incumbrance, or maybe it was both.”

“I am cognizant of what I been sayin’.”

Jackson laughed warmly, gripping his friend's shoulder, and shaking him. “So, you deem you…. YOU are in love?”

Rubbing at his eye, Lafayette grinned.

“What are times comin’ to when one lil’ freckle-faced gal can turn Lafayette Henri Begnoir upside down, proving ‘em wrong, and so swiftly, too.”

The sheepish grin grew bolder.

“Hell, you are smitten, Bub.” Jackson’s blue eyes sparkled, his smile filling with sheer happiness. “Well, you best go back and make a better farewell afore you deal with Josie.”

Lafayette looked to the lawn and bit his lip.

“She already has them all in knots; go say a proper farewell.”

Racing back, Lafayette ducked under the mock orange vines smothering the arbor, and the moment Celia saw him, her eyes lit up.

Dropping to a knee, he took her hand, kissing it. “ _Mon Chérie,_ I offer you _m’_ humblest regrets it appears _famille_ _devoir…_ duties, truly do require _m’_ attention.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips across hers, “However, Celia, _Chérie,_ I _promesse_ , even while I am away, _m’_ thoughts will be of you.”

Trailing her fingers from his temple down along his face, she noted an uneasy tension had taken up residence there, and something about it made her feel a bit cold. “What has happened?”

“It is only a trifle, naught to concern you. Will you _, s'il vous plaît_ …please _,_ wait for _moi?_ ”

“Hmmm?” She wrinkled her nose, “am I to turn down all offers of marriage and such?”

Lafayette blanched, his dark brows pulling together so sharp it caused Celia a pang of regret. “I was only teasin’. You can be assured, Lafe, I will wait for you.”

Kissing her palm, he passed her a grin, “then I _promesse_ to come back.”

Before he made it more than a few steps, Celia jumped up, calling in a strangled voice, “Lafe?”

Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled to her, “ _moi,_ too… _à bientôt_ _.”_

Placing a hand to the soft of her throat, she tried to catch her breath as he walked from sight. Closing her eyes, she sank to the bench, softly saying, “I think I am really…” she giggled, “or as he would say _vraiment_ in love.” Tracing her thumb over where he had kissed her palm, she breathed deep. ‘Do I trust he feels the same?’

Moving down the hill, Lafayette wove through his neighbors like wind through a sapling grove, refusing any who approached with a shake of his head. ‘ _Chiant!_ ’ he thought, snorting his frustration. ‘Sure, as rain, this is goin’ to get back to Father, and he is goin’ to come flat down on _moi.”_

On reaching the dance platform, he started right up the steps and then froze. ‘I should wait ‘till the damn song is done, charging out there....’ He frowned, ‘well, it ain’t civilized or…hospitable.’

Returning to the grass, he crossed his arms, waiting for the final strains of the lively Polka Redowa Waltz, and standing there, he became conscious of the outraged image he was presenting. Smoothing the frown from his face, he uncrossed his arms, slipping his thumbs into his vest pockets. As he did, he saw Colonel Barnett nodding approvingly, and he nodded back.

“Now, Bub, do not start a row.”

“Damnation, Jackson, I know that much.” Lafayette flicked his chin toward Joséphine, “if’n I wanted a _mêlée_ , I would already be out there.”

“True,” Jackson answered, tilting his head, he softly said. “Maybe being a gal, Josie is unaware of the atrocities that have been comin’ out of Kansas.”

“Most likely,” Lafayette responded, watching their neighbors from the corners of his eyes. “However, it does not matter; they is all starin’ at her like she is the viper in the garden.”

“Still, I am bettin’ she just does not understand.”

The corner of Lafayette’s mouth crooked up sardonically, “Oh, I am damn positive, Jackson, she has _non_ idea with each step she is smearing her _nom_ along with that of our _famille.”_

As the musicians released the waltz’s last chord, Lafayette glanced once to the Colonel then climbed the stairs with Jackson, two steps behind.

Reading anger beneath her brother’s composed expression, Joséphine hastily slipped from her dance partner’s embrace, saying. “I do believe I am rather desperate for a cool drink. If’n it would be no trouble, Sean, would you mind fetchin’ me a draught of somethin’ sweet?”

“It would be my pleasure.” The tall, redheaded lieutenant replied, giving her hand a teasing squeeze.

Darting her eyes to her brother, she answered quickly, “wonderful; I will meet you down by the Walnut tree.”

“And, Josie, I shall return to your side in a jiffy.” Spinning, the Lieutenant brushed past Lafayette without a glance.

For a full breath, the siblings carefully studied one another.

During which Lafayette thought, ‘all you need do is get her to cease fraternizing with this particular dance partner.’ Sucking at the inside of his cheek, he told himself, ‘just remain _diplomatique_ and do not let her start a _mêlée_.’ Taking a step toward her, he rolled out a smile. “Hey, _Chérie_ , I would say you have danced enough.” However, despite what he had told himself, he heard the bitter bite in his voice, and by the wrinkle appearing in the bridge of Joséphine’s nose, so did she.

Before she could react, Lafayette snagged her hand, tucking it about his arm and hustling them down the steps, out onto the lawn. “Come now, you seem rather _fatigué_ , _m'_ _Chérie_.”

Pushing her mouth up next to his ear, she hissed, “little late to be showin’ me concern; you shoulda done that afore you chose Hannah Baker over me.”

Peeking across at her, Lafayette said, “and I _apologize_ for that _._ ”

“I ain’t takin’ your apology, Lafe, and you can cease herdin’ me ‘bout.”

“I ain’t herdin’ you; it is like I said, you look awfully tired. Think how _bonne_ a respite in the shade with the _mesdemoiselles_ would feel.”

“I ain’t tired, and I ain’t going take a seat in the shade.” Determined to have her way, Joséphine dug in her heels.

Feeling her do so, he grasped tighter of her hand, “Still, I feel you should come along with _moi_.”

Her eyes narrow and tight, she remained firmly planted, refusing to take another step.

“ _Zut!_ Jo walk.”

“Lafe, I ain’t sure what sort of damn burr is under your blanket, but I am _still_ downright angry with you, and you ain’t improvin’ matters. Now, you let go of me!”

His head turned slowly, like a dog to an unrecognizable sound, and ever so low, he hissed, "Joséphine Michelle Antoinette."

Her lip curled, and she responded in kind, "Lafayette Henri Begnoir."

Leaning close, his cheek against hers, he snarled in a low whisper, “ _Fille_ , trust _moi._ This here ain’t a quarrel you want to start; just come along _._ "

"I can make my own choices, Lafe, and right ‘bout now; I want to dance and have a bit of fun without you harassin’ me.” Then, like a headstrong yearling, she jerked back, tearing her hand from his grip.

_"Jésus a pleuré, Jo, écoute-moi et conduis-toi. Avec la politique et les tensions telles qu'elles sont, nous ne pouvons pas perdre la confiance et la confiance de nos voisins."_ _**[1]** _

“Break that off!” She snapped. “Does you no good to babble on at me in French, you rightly know, I cannot keep up. If'n you want to state a case, you do it in plain ol’ American English."

Glancing at their neighbors, who were pretending not to listen, Lafayette sighed. "All right,” he extended his hands to her palms up. “You are correct; you can make your own choices. So, if’n, you still feel like dancin’. I would be pleased to take you for a twirl.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Perhaps, not _moi,_ ” Lafayette gestured to his pal. “How about Jackson?"

Shaking her head, she placed a finger to her mouth, thinking, ‘If’n he is not upset with me, havin’ a good time… then what in Hades has him bunched up?’

“Come on, Jo, Honey... _Chérie_ , there are plenty here who would be delighted to dance with you.” Lafayette tried to smile, but it held no sincerity. “ _S'il vous plaît,_ Jo, just cease dancin’ with that Lieutenant?”

Her mouth popped open, and then fast as a coin flip, her whole face pinched, her eyes becoming thin slits.

‘ _Bordel de merde_ , she is goin’ throw _un_ of her fits.’ Lafayette thought, edging closer, he pleaded, “s _’il vous plaît,_ Jo, this once for _moi_ , _s’il vous plaît_.”

“Humph!” She grunted, placing her hands on her hips. “Why would I do anything for you? Did you not hear me say I am still mad at you? Besides…why should I cease dancin’ with Sean? He is charmin’ and a swell dancer.”

“Jo, there are others here who are charmin’ and _bonne_ dancers.”

She rubbed at the side of her neck, “You ain’t makin’ any sense at all.” With a shake of her head, she turned to walk off, and Lafayette grabbed her arm. Freezing, she looked pointedly at his hand.

He let go.

Crossing her arms, she hissed, “ _Frère,_ you best leave me be.”

Even as Lafayette felt everyone watching, all he knew of the Border difficulties ran through his mind. Suddenly, everything, this moment here, and all the world felt like it was spinning out of control. When clearer than anything he had ever experienced, he realized all he wanted was to return to Celia’s side. The corners of his mouth dipped, his eyes softening. “Jo, _s’il vous plaît_.”

“I said, leave me be.” She waved a hand at him, “go away!”

Something about her dismissing him this way set his anger into motion, and with a bitter laugh, he said. "I see you want to do this the hard way."

Behind him, Jackson gulped, "Uh, Bub, maybe you ought not--"

“You want to put on a memorable show…” Lafayette stepped right up into his sister’s face. “Very well, then listen close, ‘cause everyone else is.”

A vein popped in Joséphine’s forehead, her lips thinning to a tight line.

“See, the way of it is _Bébé_ _Sœur;_ you are offendin’ our neighbors. Before you ask, I will explain...” He nodded toward a pair of Federal soldiers not too far off, “you have chosen to dance with a man who is viewed with suspicion, even hostility. Moreover, if’n you do not cease, you are likely as not to touch off a _mêlée_ that will end in sprayin’ blood all over this here lawn. Now, as your elder, I am orderin’ you to come along with _moi_ and cease dallying with this Lieutenant.”

Joséphine scanned the soldiers and coming back to her brother’s stony eyes, and dancing left dimple, she said. “Do you realize how you sound?” She shook her head, her face shifting to a perfect image of disgust. “I suppose not, but there is no possible way you can force me to your way of thinkin’!”

Lafayette canted his eyes to Jackson, who raising his hands, backed away with a shrug.

Stepping closer, Joséphine poked Lafayette in the chest. “In fact, let me tell _you_ what I think…it is _you_ who has lost _your_ composure. Father says we all are part of the Union, so why are you scoldin’ me like some border patroller?” She poked him again. “You sound utterly ridiculous.” She poked him a third time.

Lafayette’s black eyes flicked the finger-jabbing him, and he stepped out of her reach, sorting through his remaining options.

"You can go right on believin’ what you wish. Except you leave me out of it, but I, for one, am not listenin’ to it no more. Just leave me be.” As she barked the final words, Joséphine gave Lafayette a shove.

It was not much more than she would have done back home if they were arguing over this or that. However, they were not at Sienna, and his uncertainty shriveled before his rising anger.

Leaping forward, he pushed his lips to her ear, rage strangulating his voice, making it sound hoarse. “ **I do not give a damn if ‘n** you believe _moi._ You already damaged your _reputation,_ and I will be cursed to hell, afore I allow you to endanger our _familles_. This all has gone far enough, do not be forcin’ _m’_ hand. If’n you do, Joséphine, I--"

Knocking him in the chest with her fist, she cut him off, "What? You will do what!?"

"I will drag you home, and _non_ amount of cursin’ will stop _moi_.”

Her eyes sparkled at his challenge, a malicious grin inching its way across her face. “Lafayette Henri, you lay one finger on me, and _you_ will regret it! I will scream and set into you like _you ain’t ever seen_. Moreover, despite what you think, Lt. O’Rourke has treated me like a lady. Unlike someone!” Finding perverse pleasure in disobeying, her smile grew bigger. “Frankly, believe, I will take Sean up on his offer to go ridin’ later. ‘Course, that is _after_ I eat with 'em at the evenin’ feast.”

“I suppose you better start screamin’,” Lafayette replied, snatching both her wrists in an iron grip. “Cause as long I have a breath in _moi_ , I ain’t allowin’ any of that to happen.”

Tugging furiously against him, Joséphine squalled, “you best be lettin' go of me!"

Despite her protestations, Lafayette kept on for the stables.

Finding that clawing, dragging her feet, and jerking back was gaining her little; she shrieked, “ _Zut!_ Release me!”

“I will release you only to Father.”

“ _Aller en enfer!”_ She cried, rearing back, and kicking her brother in the back of the thigh.

His leg buckled, slamming him to the ground. Except, he was on his feet, as fast as he had gone down, and still dragging Joséphine after him like an unruly horse.

" _Zut,_ unhand me!" Joséphine bawled. "Who are _you_ to determine who I can socialize with? Lafe, let go! You have no right treatin’ me this way.”

Feeling her rear back again, he flung her around in front of him. " _Par Dieu,_ you kick _moi_ again, and I will throw you over _m’_ shoulder."

"You narrow-minded, highfaultin’ elitist! I swear your mightier than thou notions have you soundin’ just like a bushwhacking Border Ruffian Patroller, and Lafayette Henri, I want no part of it,” She screeched, and with a twist, she managed to wrench a hand free. “You leave me be, damn you!”

Across the silent lawn, it was unclear which was louder, Josephine’s final words or the cracking blow of her backhanding Lafayette across the face.

Swiping a hand under his nose and across his mouth, Lafayette’s black eyes drifted from the blood smeared across the back of his hand to his sister.

[1] Jesus wept, Jo, listen to me, and behave. With politics and tensions as they are, we cannot lose

the faith and trust of our neighbors.

“ _Aller en enfer!”_ She cried, rearing back, and kicking her brother in the back of the thigh.

His leg buckled, slamming him to the ground. Except, he was on his feet, as fast as he had gone down, and still dragging Joséphine after him like an unruly horse.

" _Zut,_ unhand me!" Joséphine bawled. "Who are _you_ to determine who I can socialize with? Lafe, let go! You have no right treatin’ me this way.”

Feeling her rear back again, he flung her around in front of him. " _Par Dieu,_ you kick _moi_ again, and I will throw you over _m’_ shoulder."

"You narrow-minded, highfaultin’ elitist! I swear your mightier than thou notions have you soundin’ just like a bushwhacking Border Ruffian Patroller, and Lafayette Henri, I want no part of it,” She screeched, and with a twist, she managed to wrench a hand free. “You leave me be, damn you!”

Across the silent lawn, it was unclear which was louder, Josephine’s final words or the cracking blow of her backhanding Lafayette across the face.

Swiping a hand under his nose and across his mouth, Lafayette’s black eyes drifted from the blood smeared across the back of his hand to his sister.

[1] Jesus wept, Jo, listen to me, and behave. With politics and tensions as they are, we cannot lose

the faith and trust of our neighbors.


	19. Chapter SIXTEEN

Chapter Sixteen

“What is going on?”

With a shriek, Joséphine whirled, slopping what was to be her drink all over herself and the front of Lieutenant O’Rourke’s blue wool uniform.

“Oh, Josie, I do apologize. I did not mean to frighten you,” O'Rourke said, his eyes remaining on Lafayette; he commanded, "take these," pushing the champagne flutes into her shaking hands. “Sir, I do not believe we have met?”

Feeling as angry as he could ever recall, Lafayette switched his attention to the tall, solidly built, older man addressing him and replied with infinite coldness. "I am Lafayette Crowe, _Mademoiselle_ Joséphine’s brother. _Mes excuses_ we were just departin’ for home." With a sharp nod, Lafayette held out his arm to Joséphine.

Stepping in front of Joséphine, with a pleasant enough smile, the officer said, "Hold on now, we have not finished our introductions. I am Lieutenant Sean O’Rourke, and from what I see, I would say Josie does not wish to leave with you.”

Lafayette stiffened, his tone dripping with scathing politeness. “ _Mon_ utmost _excuses,_ Lieutenant O’Rourke, however, we all are a bit more conventional ‘round here. It ain’t her choice to make, and yet, I am much obliged for your concern.”

“Lafayette Crowe?”

“ _Oui…_ yes.”

“And… you are a border ruffian?”

Lafayette’s nostril’s flared.

‘Oh, hell…did Sean _hear_ me arguin’ with Lafe?’ Joséphine thought, looking from one man to the other.

The skin about O’Rourke’s eyes was tight, and with sharp conciseness, he said, “with that being so, I can see how her being with the likes of me might rub you wrong.” He unveiled a dark smile, “you are the first bushwhacker I have stood across from, and I must say, I am rather excited to speak further with you concerning the various _justice_ _patrols_ you have partaken in.”

Fighting down the panicky feeling beating about in his chest, Lafayette licked his lips, rolling out a smile, “ _mes apologies,_ Lieutenant O’Rourke. However, I must inform you _m’ sœur's tempère_ loosens her tongue.” His eyes flicked beyond O’Rourke to Joséphine, “causin’ her to spout untruths and say things she does not mean.” Sweat pricked up sharp and painfully across Lafayette’s back. “On _m’ honneur_ I have at _non_ time, been on a patrol, nor have I by any means, committed the activities you are suggestin’.”

Releasing a cheeky smile while running a hand down the kidskin riding gloves, tucked in his beltline, O’Rourke replied, “that is right grand to hear, Crowe.”

Unconsciously Lafayette nodded.

“And, since you claim not to be a treasonous outlaw, but a loyal Union man.” O’Rourke looked around, smiling to those listening. “Then, I do not see how you could possibly mind me spending more of this lovely day with your delightful sister."

Lafayette’s mouth twitched, his eyes sliding to Jackson.

“That is, unless….” O'Rourke’s smile turned ruthless, “…she spoke true, wherein you are murderous, thieving, border trash. In such a case, I can see how it would be against your beliefs to have her consorting with the likes of _me_.”

A bone-chilling shudder ran through Joséphine, and she thought, ‘no…no…no…he just baited a trap for Lafe. If’n he concedes, he brands his self a coward in allegiance with the Federalists. But if’n we leave, he proclaims his self a bushwhacker.” Her eyes darted to O’Rourke, “he might use one of them John Doe warrants, I have heard of…. against _m’_ _frère._ He might arrest _m' frère_! Oh…I must stop this.’ Licking her lips, she tugged on O'Rourke's sleeve, "Sean, I have had a wonderful time, yet I do believe---"

O’Rourke briskly ordered, “Quiet," patting her hand like a child, "men are talking.”

Once more, extending his hand, Lafayette tonelessly said, “Joséphine Michelle, it is high time we departed.”

All of O’Rourke’s petty pleasantries fell away, “Ah-ha, Crowe, you are exactly, as I supposed.”

The moment Joséphine’s fingers touched his hand, Lafayette clasped tight, swinging her to Jackson. Standing before them, he squared up to O’Rourke. “Lieutenant, you know nothing of _moi,_ nor I of you, let us leave it that way."

“I know you are an _eejit_ who slaughters innocents for your abhorrent cause of slavery,” O’Rourke replied, his words floating across the lawn for all to hear since there was not another sound to be heard. 

Lafayette’s left dimple pulsated in time with his clenching fists as he imposed an iron will on his ever-expanding rage. “ _Monsieur_ , I strongly suggest you drop this matter as there is _non_ truth to it.”

"The moment I saw you bedeviling a lady…” O’Rourke paused, stroking his auburn Van Dyke beard,"... I knew you were a blighter. What surprises me more is how much of a maggot crawling coward you are who will not own up to his deeds. Truly, I am outright astonished you have enough backbone to walk upright?”

Lafayette’s fist connecting with O’Rourke’s jaw sounded like a limb breaking, and the Lieutenant was flipped off his feet to land flat on his back with a thud.

O’Rourke rolled over, and with a grunt, pushed his self up.

Moving in fast, Lafayette slammed a fist into the man’s unprotected face, and O’Rourke’s nose gushed blood.

Except the fight was not out of O’Rourke, as he proved, staggering Lafayette with a powerful, corkscrew punch.

Spying the follow-up blow on the way, Lafayette dodged. Only, it was a bluff covering the one aimed for his face. The impact spun Lafayette about with blood spewing from his mouth.

But before he landed in the dirt, Lafayette planted a hand, and seeing a boot aimed for his face; he spun and jutting out a leg, neatly swept the Lieutenant’s foot from under him.

As O’Rourke went down, he latched hold of Lafayette, dragging him along.

The pair rolled across the grass, grunting, and exchanging vicious rabbit punches, their muscles straining as each grappled for the upper ground. Then Lafayette had it, his hands gripping O'Rourke's throat.

Arching his back, O’Rourke kicked wildly, clawing at Lafayette’s grip.

With a savage smile, Lafayette bore down, his blood dripping onto his enemy’s face.

Then the eerie familiar click of cocking revolvers overshadowed the sound of the fighting men, and Joséphine screamed, as did other ladies with the boom of a shotgun silencing them all.

“That is sufficient!” Colonel Barnett bellowed. “Lafayette! Let 'em go, Son!” The dignified, white-haired man ordered, looking thoroughly in charge with a smoking shotgun draped casually across his arm. “All y'all holster your weapons. I will not have blood spilled. Look about you.”

Missouri men and soldiers alike turned their eyes to cowering ladies clutching their children, and ruefully, they holstered their firearms.

“Bub, you are goin’ to kill ‘em,” Jackson shouted, pushing against Lafayette, trying to break his hold before he crushed the life out of the officer. “ _Zut_ , he ain’t worth the grief.”

Lafayette shook his head, spraying droplets of blood.

Frantic, Jackson cried out, “Let ‘em go!” and rearing back, slammed into Lafayette, barreling him off O’Rourke.

Landing in a crouch, Lafayette spun, charging back.

However, he did not make it far before Orville snagged him up by his frock coat. “You done proved yourself game, Lafayette. Go on, now, and lay off.” Setting Lafayette on his feet, Orville shoved him toward the stables.

Leaping up to follow, Jackson wildly eyed the circled-up soldiers, and latching hold of Joséphine, he ran after Orville, shouting, “Benjamin! Benjamin, gather our horses!”

Struggling to his feet and gasping for breath, O’Rourke bellowed. “Crowe, you murdering, sniveling, worthless bushwhacker, you can trust I will speak with you another day!”

Twisting right out of Orville’s grip, Lafayette bolted back, shouting, “To hell with another day, let us finish this here and now!”

Stepping smoothly in, Coleman Younger wrapped his long arms about Lafayette, effectively pinning his hands behind his back. “Not now. Not now. You are too damn incensed, and he is too little of a man to throw it all away over.”

A howl ripped from Lafayette, and he lunged against Coleman’s hold, the howl twisting and rising, becoming an outright screech for blood.

“Damnation!” Orville gulped, grabbing the left arm Lafayette had wrenched free. “Always knew he t’weren’t one to push, just did not realize he could turn into hellfire when good and pissed.”

Seeing everything through a blur of tears, Joséphine stared in cold shock at the bucking, cursing beast Orville and Coleman drug to the stable yard. ‘Where did this come from?’ She thought, ‘he is out of his ever-lovin’ mind.'

Having made it to the stable paddock and tired of being abused, Coleman gave Lafayette a bone-rattling shake. “Sam Hill, settle down! Twistin’ his damn head off ain’t gonna do you, nor your family a lick of damn good!” Shaking Lafayette again, he shoved him away. “You damn-well know it. Now, settle yourself!”

Swiping sweat and blood from his eyes, Lafayette scowled at the two larger men blocking his way. “ _Je m’en fous!”_

Leaning back into his heels, Coleman chuckled, glancing to Orville. “Deem, there are times it is best; he ain’t always understandable.”

Orville nodded, his sloppy, big smile appearing, “He can say what he wants, cause I can tell you, I ain’t ever settin’ myself up to tangle with ‘em.”

Wrinkling his nose, Lafayette glared toward the yard, and Coleman shoved him back against the fence. “Uh-huh! Stay there!"

Lafayette’s nose wrinkled tighter; his eyes locked on the picnic area.

Coleman barked, “Stay!”

With a belligerent snort, Lafayette spun, laying his arms across the top rail, his mercurial black eyes fixing on the ground in front of him.

The uncertainty of all present filled the stable yard with a brittle silence and shivering, Joséphine recalled something her brother had once said. ‘You only think you have seen _moi_ angry. You ain’t. Cause unlike you and Taddy, I cannot allow _m’_ _tempère_ its freedom, and it is like a red demon that claws at _moi_ to be free, if’n I give it too much rein, well I feel like it might take over, and I will never be _moi_ again.'

Easing down the fence to her brother, Joséphine studied his bleeding profile, 'and to think, I told ‘em, he sounded foolish, talkin’ like he had a demon in him.' She shook her head, ' if'n this is his demon, then he is correct. He must keep it locked away.’

Pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve, she reached to stem the blood streaming from his ragged lip.

His hand darted out, ripping the cloth from her. “Do not lay _un_ _malheureux_ fuckin’ finger on _moi_.”

“Lafe, _chéri_ , it is me.”

“I know who it is. And I want you to keep the hell away from _moi_.”


	20. Chapter SEVENTEEN

Chapter Seventeen

Tearing up Sienna’s drive, Lafayette hollered for Cain to be fetched, even as he leapt down, taking the front steps three at a time.

His hand was on the door latch when a terrified scream filled the front veranda. Spinning, he saw Joséphine tangled in the train of her riding habit and hanging in a perilous position from Nelly. In one fluid movement of grace and strength, he was at her side, setting her safely on the ground.

She clung to him; tears trapped in her lashes sparkling brilliantly in the late golden light.

‘Is she truly remorseful?’ he thought, a cloud of emotions rippling across his face as her femininity bewitched him.

“Lafe Sugar, I did not mean to strike you, please, believe me.”

Her words broke the spell, and his face twisted, becoming ugly, “ _Par Dieu_ , you are worried ‘bout striking _moi?_ Ha! That is only a morsel of what has outraged _moi_.” Peeling her fingers from his arm, he backed up the steps. “You… leave _moi_ be!”

She whimpered, “Lafe…?” the tears, now, streaming freely.

“ _Non_! This ain’t one of your games to win with a shower of tears." He shook his head in disgust. “Do you not grasp… _you_ have destroyed _moi?_ ” Celia flashed in his mind, and he screamed, ‘ _Zut,_ you have fuckin’ destroyed _moi_!”

“It was not my fault, Lafe, but I apologize anyway. It just happened; it was not my fault.”

Backing away, he turned, charging up the steps, and taking hold of the curved brass handles of Sienna’s double, front door, which stood as broad as three men abreast, he paused. “You are so self-absorbed. From now on, just leave _moi_ be. You are dead to _moi_.” Flinging the doors open with such force, they crashed against the entry walls, creating a boom that echoed throughout the house, followed by the even louder sound of him shouting. “Father!”

A soft baritone reply drifted forth, from the semi-darkness of the vast front hall, “in the study.”

A person would think such a clamorous homecoming would draw more interest from the family's patriarch. However, once Antonio ceased his idle roaming and settled into living at Sienna, he discovered life here was rarely quiet as his children were spirited, headstrong, and impetuous.

It had also not taken him long to identify when they came calling for him; what they were truthfully wanting was a mediator. Consequently, it took him even less time to understand if left to their own devices; they would soon enough settle their difficulties. So, in short, little of their hurly-burly activities caused him to raise an eye.

Striding down the tapestry rug toward the study, Lafayette clawed off his frock coat, throwing it to land in a jumbled mess on the floor. He felt strong and righteous in his rage, and for once, it felt good to let it flow. Besides, as long as his demon was free, its heat kept the distasteful cold fear he had felt in front of Lieutenant O’Rourke at bay.

“Lafe. Lafe.” He froze, his anger diminishing in response to his baby sister calling to him as she raced down the wide, polished steps of the central staircase, “You are home???”

A shaky sigh slipped from Lafayette, knowing he could never permit his inner demon near Eudora; anger, hate, bitterness, all who lived at Sienna shielded the youngest of the family from these harsh stones of the world beyond their home.

“ _Bonjour, m’ amour._ ”

She halted on the bottom step, placing her hands on her hips. “You told _moi_ you would not be home ‘til well after dark. You fibbed to _moi_.”

“You cannot call _moi_ a fibber.” He answered, kneeling. “I simply returned home earlier than I believed I would.”

Bolting from the step with a giggle, she flung herself into his arms, practically knocking them both to the floor. Righting the pair of them, he kissed her cheek, inhaling deeply of her coconut lime verbena perfume. “So, _petite,_ you are not cross with _moi_?”

“Oh, _non._ I was only funning you.”

“Thought so.”

She peered, carefully, at him, with her large, exquisite, green eyes. “What happened?”

“Hmm?” He grinned, but the split in his lower lip hurt terribly. “Yeah, _qu’elle_ happened, you are supposed to be assistin’ Mams, with that twin of yours?”

“He is too grumpy!” She replied, draping an arm about his neck. “He has been spouting all sorts of _mal_ words.” She nodded, “just all over the place.”

Lafayette chuckled, “ _Chérie,_ his inordinate use of _mal_ words ain’t anything new.”

“Oh, but he has been really, really _mal_ today,” She nodded with a put-on straight face. “I think he even made up a few new _unes_.” She nodded more, her eyes growing large. "Mams, she said, I was to clear out of his _chambre_ and stay out.”

“ _Vraiment_?” Lafayette asked, feeling his pounding pulse slowing as his eyes traced the delicate line of her face.

Eudora Lorraine was graceful and tiny, the perfect counterpart of her twin. The first time a person laid eyes on her flawless beauty, it astounded them. Yet, in truth, Eudora was flawed. It could not be fully explained; just her mind had not kept pace with her maturing body, thus leaving her innocently uncomplicated.

Once years ago, Lafayette had come upon Simone educating a new house slave of Eudora. She was informing the girl, ‘it be ‘cause she is a twin and twins they go against the laws of nature.’ For weeks afterward, he had pestered Simone wanting a fuller explanation.

Unable to take his hounding any longer, she had broken, saying, ‘twins require too much of a _filles_ body. They go ‘gainst nature. Most times, they be something not rights with _une_ or both.’ Then she had fallen to crying, saying Ms. Genni was alive in Eudora. How she knew she was because Eudora carried all Genni's tenderness in her soul. Then she had snagged hold of him, shaking him, and exacting a promise; that he would always watch over Eudora and never expect too much from her, as she would forever stand on the brink of childhood until the day she died.

“Lafe?” Eudora questioned, placing her hands on either side of his face.

Her touch brought him back to the here and now, and he could feel soreness and fatigue setting in. As a matter of course, he did not dwell on his sister’s misfortune. ‘It must be the strain of the day affectin’ _moi._ ’ He thought, saying, “ _Mes excuses_ , Dora, what were you sayin’?”

Her dark brows were furrowed low, just like Thaddeus’ when he was vexed. “I said… your face is all cut and bruised, and you are all over covered in dirt." Then her nose wrinkled, "and blood."

Somehow, clear as a dinner bell, he could hear O’Rourke hollering ‘I will speak with you another day,’ and a shudder ran through him.

“Is you all right?”

“I got _mon_ self in a brawl, is all.”

“Is you all right?”

“ _Oui_.”

She grinned mischievously, "Did you whip ‘em?”

“I believe so.”

Tilting her chin down, she gave him a long look.

“ _Oui._ I did. But, Dora, if’n you do not mind…” he motioned to how dirty he was, “I sure could use one of your great big hugs.”

“I knew you won." She beamed, pillowing into his chest, and twining her arms about him. "Ain’t none who can hold a candle to _m' frères_.”

“If’n you say so,” he mumbled into her jet-black hair.

“I do.” She exclaimed, leaning back to tap him on the tip of his nose with her finger, the same way he often did to her.

“Hey _fille_ , how about later? I come up and read to you from Anderson's Fairy Tales.”

“When?”

“After I get cleaned up, but first...” He tilted his head toward the study, “I must go speak with Father.”

She stood, her mouth twisting to the side. Glancing to the door of father's study, she planted a sloppy kiss on Lafayette’s forehead. “ _Je t'aime._ ”

“Right back at you.”

_“Toujours.”_

“That is correct.

Giggling, she darted off, ever flitting from room to room, scarcely missing anything that occurred within the house.

Lafayette felt unsure of himself with his rage gone, and rubbing a hand across his lips, he flinched. ‘Damn, I really must look a sight.’ He stared dazedly about him. “What the hell am I to say to Father? Squalling out _m’_ indignation had sounded right fine when _m’_ blood was boilin’.’ He sighed, ‘now, now, I can see all the ways I could have managed it more competently.' His mouth went dry, and his stomach clenched in a knot. ‘ _Jésus a pleuré,_ Celia saw it all.’

Gripping his hands about the back of his head, he took a shuddering breath. ‘I must have terrified her; she saw _m_ _’_ blackness, _m’_ demon I must have scared her silly.’ A burning sensation filled the back of his throat and taking a deep breath; he climbed to his feet. ‘I should have cajoled Jo; hell begged… anything to not have the ending we did. _Par Dieu_ , I know better. Ain’t I the _une_ who tells Taddy and Gabe orderin’ Jo will only garner ‘em a dose of trouble? _Qu’elle_ was I thinkin’? And, _qu’elle_ can I say to Celia?’

“Lafayette Henri Begnoir,” their father’s thick Kentucky accent summoned from the library that he called his study.

At the sound of his full name, Lafayette stiffened, then walking across the hall, he bent to retrieve his frock coat, and on straightening came eye-to-eye with the bronze statue of their stallion, Boreas Red.

The lifelike bronze depicted the stallion in full flight; each muscle flexed, strands of mane and tail whipping in the wind. Dragging his fingers along the flowing lines, Lafayette frowned.

Somewhere through the years, the siblings had made it a tradition to touch the bronze statue on the way out the front

door for luck. Scuffing his boots along the runner rug to the study, he mumbled, “I did not touch Boreas afore leavin’ this mornin’. Figures _m’_ day went to hell.”


	21. Chapter EIGHTEEN

Chapter Eighteen

Outside Joséphine stood dazed, the saying 'knocked senseless,' she had always equated to the finale of a fistfight or a fall from a horse. Yet, presently, it was how she felt, and it began with Lafayette saying, ‘You are dead to _moi_.’

Stiffly, Joséphine stumbled down the white chat drive leading the pair of hot horses, with their heads hanging low. Halfway down, Nelly nudged her, and turning to her mare, Joséphine buried her face in the horse’s long, silken mane, sobbing until her throat felt raw and tears would come no more. Pulling from Nelly’s warm security, she moaned, “I have to fix this.”

Knowing she needed to keep cooling the horses, Joséphine tugged at the pair’s reins. Yet, determined to continue grazing, Cain hauled back, knocking her off-balance, and she howled, “Hells Bells, do not be givin’ me trouble. I already got enough; I have made on my own.”

The big gray swung his hip, scooting away from her, and she jerked his rein. Cain’s head shot up with a snort and came down, slamming her in the chest, sending her flying.

Coming up the drive to collect the horses, Peter broke into a run. “Josie!”

“I am all right,” Joséphine grumbled, kicking the train of her riding habit out of the way to clamber from the Tiger Lilly patch she had landed in.

“You sure you are unhurt my, Lil’ Bird?” Peter asked, his voice thick with the type of worry a parent carried for their child.

Picking a broken stick-like stem from her hair, she passed him a weak smile, “I knew better than to stand right in front of the brute.” Taking up Nelly’s reins, she muttered, “got what I deserved.”

“Do not know about that.” Peter smiled adoringly over at her and taking Cain’s reins, he surveyed the drive, “Where is Benjamin?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

Peter nodded, thinking, ‘hope he chooses to return, probably was not the best decision to leave ‘em behind.’ He slanted his eyes to Joséphine, scuffing along beside him. ‘But it sure do seem, her and Lafe have brought home a larger complication.’

They walked in silence, all the way down to Sienna’s front gate, with Peter subtly watching her. Pausing at the entrance, Peter ripped down trumpet vines creeping their way up the side poles toward the iron arch over the drive. “Them things would take over if’n we let ‘em.”

She nodded.

Strolling back toward the house, Peter asked, “Why do you not go on and tell me, what has you so twisted up?”

She shook her head.

Peter’s heart ached as he studied the tight anguish in her face, “I would say it has somethin' to do with that brother of yours.”

She kicked a rock.

“Sounded purely cantankerous when he rode in.”

She sent another rock skittering.

Noticing the saddles were still tight, Peter whoa’ed the horses, loosening their cinches. “What you reckon got Lafe in such a state?”

A shuddering breath rolled from Joséphine.

“It was you, hum?” He nodded, “Well, go on and give ‘em a bit of time, you rightly know, Lafayette’s blood do not stay boilin’ long, and then he is all smiles again.”

So low, he could barely hear her, she mumbled, “not this time.”

Peter made a soft ‘ah hum’ sound, and they began walking toward the house. “You happen to recall that day you heaved Taddy’s six-shooter in the pond?"

She looked over at him.

“What was it, oh yes, ‘cause he refused to train you to shoot.”

She rolled her eyes, looking away.

“Sakes alive! That revolver hit the water, and I ain’t never seen such a fire lit under Taddy.”

Defensively, Joséphine finally spoke, saying, “does not matter, I helped 'em find it.”

“Uh-hum, you did.” Peter patted her shoulder. “You did. But, not till Web, put a stop to y'all, tryin' to teach each other the trick of breathin' underwater.”

She peeked over, a guilty grin softening her expression.

“You know I love you, Lil’ Bird, but you got a way of forgettin’ details which do not appeal to you.”

Her face became glum all over again.

“Still, I ain’t never gonna forget how y’all were covered in more mud than a sow hog in July.”

She slanted her eyes toward him with a small shrug.

“And, how y'all was laughin' like loons.”

A smile caressed her mouth.

He chucked her under the chin, “Ah, there be my playful bird.”

Behind them came the distinct crunching of rock and turning, Peter raised a hand to Benjamin, beckoning him over.

“Good to see you ain’t pushed Ol’ Copper she sure ain't gots as much vinegar to run out as them,” Peter said, jabbing a thumb toward the pair of tall grays. Taking the reins, he passed them to Benjamin, who was eyeing Joséphine like she should be nailed to the side of a barn. “Take ‘em on down to Marcus.”

Peter fully knew Benjamin would tattle out all that had occurred, without any prompting at all. But right about now, he preferred to hear it from Joséphine. Learning her side would better prepare him for when Lafayette came grousing around the stables later. Turning back to Joséphine, he took her hand. “You sure, you do nots wants to speak ‘bouts your day?”

She shook her head, her improved humor fading before Benjamin’s mistrustful gaze.

Wishing they had not been interrupted, Peter retreated to his earlier topic, “You know why I done brought up that six-shooter?”

“To remind me of the long list of half-witted choices I have made.” She replied, staring long-faced at Sienna’s gaping front door.

“Oh, no… no child,” he cooed, wiping away the tears that leaked from her eyes. “I need you to recollect this ain’t the first time you done been at it with one of your brothers.”

She nodded, releasing the same crooked grin she shared with her brothers.

“Taddy up and got over it, did he not?” When she did not reply or nod, he took her hand, squeezing it. “Lafe Boy still be younger than he likes to think. And, land sakes, when he is in a huff, if’n he ain’t got a tongue sharper than a bullwhip. So, Lil’ Bird, I do not want you to be takin' none what he said to heart, ‘cause I know ‘em, and he will get over it…given time.”

Sniffling, she released a shaky breath, “it is hard not to.”

“I know, and I also know he luvs you. Now hustle yourself on in the house.”

“ _Merci beaucoup_ , Peter.” She said, throwing her arms about the old trainer’s neck and kissing his weathered cheek before rushing up the steps.


	22. Chapter NINETEEN

Chapter Nineteen

The horses on the drive jolted Katherine from reminiscing about her husband. Her eyes strayed to the dust motes swirling in the late afternoon sunbeams, thinking. ‘It is entirely too early for those _duex_ to be returnin’.’ She frowned slightly, ‘has to be them; who else would it be?’ As she set her sewing aside to look out the front window, she heard Lafayette barge in bellowing for their father.

The corners of Katherine’s mouth twitched toward a frown, 'Wonder what trifle has him in an uproar?' She shook her head, 'Oh well, he is callin’ for Father, and Father can fully see to him without _m’_ aid.'

Katharine Abigail Lorraine was Gena and Antonio Crowe’s first girl child. She had alabaster skin, almond-shaped copper-colored eyes, and masses of thick, straight, black hair. From birth, her Mother doted over Katharine, and her Father showered her with love, spoiling, ‘his Lil’ Creole Empress,’ in every way imaginable.

Until the age of eight, Katherine was surrounded by love. However, her mother's death during childbirth shattered her flawless life. Along with losing her mother, she lost her hero, as grief twisted her father into a man she did not recognize, who became more absent than present, even when he was at Sienna.

A child lost within the heartache that wreathed Sienna, Katherine came to a conclusion if she were not just good, but perfectly good, then her Father would be happy and no longer leave. As years passed, she became the idyllic lady, yet sadly the father she had loved did not return, leaving Sienna a pale shadow of the loving home she longed for.

At length, Katherine determined this was her life, and happiness was not meant for her. Then she met, Archibald M. Waverly. Their marriage had been the talk of the counties, a poor country boy to an estate owner's daughter, but all Katherine knew was she had found her elusive happiness.

Stitching again on her sewing, she thought, ‘I still do not comprehend how Doctor Risch could say he died of dropsy. Not once did Archie complain of his heart.” Her lips pinched tight together, “My husband was strong; strong and healthy.’ 

Absently, she twirled the needle back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. ' _Doux Mère Marie_ , when will this dreadful ache fade? I just miss him so.’ A tear dropped from her face, creating a dark spot on her black dress. ‘It rained the week of Archie’s funeral; there are times, I can still smell the muddy loam and hear the squishy sound of it landing on his casket.’ She fell to turning the gold band on her finger. 'The mud was so cold. It caked over my wedding ring.’ She sniffed softly, ‘From what everyone says, I was hysterical. Father had to pull _moi_ from the gravesite. Misfortune was…no, the misfortune still is…not one soul ever understood, I did not merely choose Archie to escape here.’ She glanced about the lavishly furnished room that had been her Mother’s. ‘I chose Archie because I _amoured_ him.’

‘When I think of the funeral, I can never recall much more than the mud. What haunts _moi_ most was returnin’ to our farm. It was no longer the quaint, charmin’ cottage I adored.’ She turned the ring some more, and another tear fell, this time on the back of her hand. ‘ _Mon_ first truly clear memory is _m_ _' frères_ comin’ to bring _moi_ home. There had been a time when I never wished to return here.” She picked up her sewing, ‘now I never wish to leave.”

With this thought, she nodded, “I will not take another husband. _Mon_ heart belongs to Archie until we are reunited within our eternal Father’s _maison. Oui,_ until that time, I will stay here as Sienna’s Mistress.’

A giggle from her son, Michaël, drew her from her reverie. She smiled at him rolling on the floor with Patches, a flop-eared speckled pup his Uncle Thaddeus had gifted him for his birthday. On doing so, Thaddeus had off-handedly said, ‘Mikey is lonely; the _garçon_ needs a playmate but suppose the pup will have to do.’

Right away, Patches became Michaël’s constant companion.

Watching the pair of them fight over an old towel, tied in a knot, she thought, ‘That pup is almost a year old. _Mon_ goodness that means _m’_ _garçon_ will soon be five. Five! Where does the time go?’ 

Seeing his Mother regarding him, Michaël flashed his dimpled grin, saying, “he is only winnin’ ‘cause I am letting ‘em.”

She nodded back with a smile, resisting the urge to wrap him in her arms to inhale his sweet scent. Simone had been getting much more severe in her chiding of ‘you keep clingin' to that _garçon_ like you been, your gonna turn 'em into a skirt tugger.’ To subdue the urge, Katharine returned her eyes to her work, where she was appliquéing white hawthorn flowers to twine along the dark-green border of the quilt.

Following the tip of the needle, as it dipped and bobbed, her reflections trailed to her brothers. ‘Despite their rowdiness, it is a great relief to have Michaël here with them. A _garçon_ needs a _monsieur_ in his life, and here, he is surrounded by them.” Her husband stole again into her thoughts, and from the corner of her eye, she examined Michaël, searching for the father in the son. After a bit, a frown appeared that ruined her beauty, 'No one would think Michaël a Waverly. He is built like Gabe, his eyes are dark as Lafe’s, his expressions nearly match Taddy, and then, of course, he has our thick, dark _François_ hair.' Katharine inhaled, swallowing tears, ‘perhaps as he grows, I will see his Father in him.’

'It sure has become silent downstairs, wonder what is happenin’?' Laying the quilt aside, she went out in the hall and, peeking over the railing, saw a rumpled Lafayette staring at the statue of Boreas with Joséphine nowhere in sight. Returning to her chair, Katharine thought, ‘that girl must be the cause of his explosive entrance. Oh well, I am positive, she will be in here pleadin’ her innocence soon enough.’

No sooner had Katharine retaken her seat then she heard boot heels on the backstairs, and as if on cue, Joséphine lurched in, tears staining her face, throwing herself on the floor by her sister’s chair.

Her brow pulling low, Katharine said, “Michaël, _m’cheri_ , you, and Patches go play downstairs, _s'il vous plaît_.”

The boy’s brows bunched tight, and he stood motionless, staring open-mouthed at his weeping, hiccupping Aunt.

“Go on, _m’ fils_.”

“All right, _Mère,”_ he answered, his eyes never straying from Joséphine as he left. “Come on, Patches.”

“Hold onto the handrail,” Katharine called after him, as she did each time, he descended the staircase; its height making her stomach turn over whenever she saw him on it. Returning her attention to her little sister, she said, “ _S'il vous plaît,_ remove that _monsieur’s_ hat, and cease weepin’ so you can enlighten _moi_ of your troubles.”

“I was the hugest fool.” Joséphine sniffled through a shuddering hiccup. “And Lafe is incredibly angry.”

“Josie, get hold of yourself. I cannot understand what you are sayin’.”

Pressing a hand to her chest, Joséphine took several deep breaths. “I started the day on the wrong foot by irritatin’ em."

"How is that?"

Joséphine glanced up, wet rivulets of tears running down her neck, "On the way over, I struck Cain sendin’ him into one hell-of-a-bucking fit.”

Katharine nodded, deciding to let the cursing go for a time.

“Then that measly mouth Hannah Baker drove up with her prissy girls."

"You should not speak poorly of others," Katharine reprimanded.

" _Mes excuses_. Still, Lafe chose to escort them instead of me. He had Benjamin escort me to the picnic. A slave… can you imagine?” Joséphine said, her tone growing angry. “How dare he?”

“It is acceptable, Josie. Although, I, too, do not see it as the correct choice. Cease frettin’ _m' chérie,_ I shall speak with him regardin’ this.”

“Well…that ain't really the difficulty."

Katherine’s mouth twitched to the side, "All right, what is?"

"When I got to the picnic, do not forget, I was plain out infuriated with ‘em." Joséphine's eyes shot to her sister, knowing she would disapprove of what was coming. “And…see, I… did not wait for Lafe. I escorted myself around the picnic, and anytime he passed near, I ducked off, avoiding ‘em.”

“What abhorrent manners. If his admonishments have brought on these tears before you go further." Katharine sat back, crossing her arms at her wrists, "you should know I am in complete accordance with him.”

“He never got the chance to speak to me about it.”

Feeling furious and staring down on her, it dawned on Katharine precisely what Joséphine had worn to the picnic, and she coldly asked, "Then did you fight over your improper attire?"

Joséphine shook her head.

"You do understand, what you have told _moi_ already is a muddled predicament enough, and that you have brought terrible shame on all of us. And--”

Joséphine interrupted her, “Let me tell you the rest.”

Katherine shook her head slightly, frowning, “go on.”

“I met this man. He was tall and charming, he asked me to dance, and we danced together for most of an hour.” Seeing Katharine’s’ eyes pinch, Joséphine hurried on. “I know Mams, and you have both informed me, such behavior leads a _monsieur_ to gather incorrect ideas."

“You have behaved downright scandalously, Joséphine Michelle Antoinette.” She shook her head, “it is no wonder Lafe is furious!”

"The difficulty is the man I danced with..." Her eyes brimmed again with tears. "He is...a…Yankee.”

The last word was a choked whisper, and Katharine pulled back, her brows rising toward her hairline, thinking. ‘How can she say such a thing? Father has declared that particular word as despicable. Says it is not to cross the lips of anyone who lives under this roof. Moreover…if Josie can call this man such a thing, why did she dance with him? Did he force her? Who is he? Where was Lafe? Could no one else aid her?’ Question upon question kept building until Katherine could not choose which to ask first.

Hopping into the opening she provided, Joséphine said, “I thought him the perfect gentlemen. He has family back in Ohio, and he was stationed at Cape Girardeau, only recently being transferred to Lawrence--”

“Kansas?!” Katharine’s screeched, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. “ _Familles_ throughout the region are goin’ be gossipin’ on this for seasons.” She took Joséphine’s hand, “I understand you do not follow men-talk, as you should not. Nevertheless, times are turbulent, and if ever, there was a town to crackle the nerves of a Missourian, it is Lawrence.” Her grip tightened unintentionally about Joséphine’s hand. “What were you thinkin’ steppin’ outside your social circle? How are we ever goin’ to redeem your _réputation_?”

Raising her chin and sitting taller, Joséphine said, "Father has clearly stated we will not be choosin’ sides. So, why should I have not felt it was all right to dance with Lt. O’Rourke.”

Katharine closed her eyes momentarily, and taking a deep breath, opened them, “ _Oui_ , our _famille_ has remained neutral throughout this horrible border affair. Yet not all our neighbors have remained so. And now you have made the foolish mistake of showin’ special attention to a Lawrence soldier.” Katharine placed a hand to her throbbing temple.

“I was only havin’ a good time. I did not know I was in the wrong.”

Katharine nodded, “I will deal with this.”

“Yeah, but Katharine, see…well…”

Katharine’s brown eyes bore into Joséphine, “out with it.”

“Lafe ordered me to cease dancin’ with Lt. O’Rourke.” Joséphine flushed crimson but kept going. “I felt he was being pig-headed, and it irked me something terrible.’

Katherine took a deep breath, “So you were flippant with Lafe?”

The corner of Joséphine’s mouth quirked, “I cursed ‘em.”

“In public?!" Katharine scolded, feeling her head starting to pound in earnest. "Have pity, _s'il vous plaît;_ tell me there is _non_ more.”

Tears began slipping once more down Joséphine’s face. "Lafe was wearin’ that look he gets. That one where he acts as if'n he is so much better than you, and then he was treatin’ me like a child.” She sighed, her body wilting, “Well, for an instant, mind you, just an instant; I felt I detested ‘em.”

Katherine drew back.

“I _amour_ Lafe, you know, I do. He was bein’ so mean, and he made me feel mean and…...”

"And?"

“I scolded ‘em back, ‘cept where he was whisperin’, I was hollerin’, and that was when I told ‘em he sounded like a bushwhackin' Border Ruffian Patroller. Then I... I...”

“You what?” Katharine barked, her dark eyes white-hot with anger. “You did what?!”

"I…” Josie’s voice dropped to a whisper, “…backhanded ‘em across his face.”

Katherine clutched tight of her dress, eyeing her little sister as someone to be avoided.

“Please, please, I know I was wrong. But that…that blasted Yankee stepped in and twisted my words.”

“I am scared to ask, but how?”

“He decided Lafe really is a Border Ruffian."

Feeling the familiar touch of death’s cold hand, Katherine snatched hold of Joséphine's shoulders, her fingers diggin’ in as she shouted, “ _Non_! _Non!_ ”

Breaking free, Joséphine scooted backward. "Lafe swore on his honor; he was not part of any unit. Did not matter, that damn Yankee up and called Lafe a liar and a maggot crawling coward.” Oddly, at this, a smile appeared on Joséphine’s red, swollen face, “But, Lafe sure made him eat those words. He did. Right there in the middle of at least twenty soldiers.”

'Hurrah for Lafe!’ Katherine thought, and yet her jubilance was short-lived. ‘Lafe might be arrested, even ambushed on the road. There is _non_ tellin’ what retribution these Yankees might do.’ Katherine’s hand flew to her chest, 'Oh, there it is, _that_ word. I see it all too; clearly, it is there because we are _non_ longer neutral. _Bienheureuse Marie,_ we have chosen a side.’

“Did he kill the damn Jayhawkin’ Yankee?”

The sisters jumped, their eyes flying to the doorway where Thaddeus stood, his tousled black hair spiky from sleep. Resting in clear view on his bare, muscled chest was their Mother’s silver crucifix, gleaming brightly in the slanting sunbeams, and seeing it, Katharine crossed herself, saying a quick, hushed prayer.

“Hell’s gates, _woman,_ speak up!”

Katharine snapped, “Thaddeus Robert!"

His blazing green eyes darted to her and back to Joséphine, "Well?!"

“He almost did. Jackson stopped 'em.”

“Humph, I would have done it.”

Under her riding habit, a cold sweat coated Joséphine.

For a drawn-out moment, Thaddeus studied Joséphine when with a deep growl, he slammed his hand against the doorframe and stormed from the room.


	23. Chapter TWENTY

Chapter Twenty

Partway down the central staircase, spots swam up before Thaddeus’ eyes, and the dining room below dipped, turning sideways. Swaying, he clutched hold of the smooth handrail, thinking, 'Maybe, I oughta holler for help.’

When, just as if he beckoned her, Eudora appeared. Slipping under his arm, she aided him in sitting.

Sheepishly, he passed her a sickly, crooked grin, and rolling her eyes; she punched him in the arm.

“Still, _merci._ ”

She nodded, punching him again with a twisted, closed-lipped smile.

“I do, too, mean it.”

"Saved you again."

"Yep, you always show up when I need you." He replied, laying his head on her shoulder. "Do not know how the hell you do it."

"Ever since you fell," she shrugged her shoulders. "I just know."

He flashed his chipped tooth grin at her.

“And that is when you broke that tooth.”

“Yep,” he answered, laying his head back on her shoulder, thinking, ‘yep…Peter had told _moi_ to keep _mon_ self out of the hayloft, and I felt he was treatin’ _moi_ like I was some damn _bébé._ Then hellfire, if’n I did not trip and fall over the damn edge. The barn was spinning; I could not breathe; really thought I was goin’ to lay there and die. Hurt so much, I could not even cry, and then there was Dora, lookin’ down on _moi_.'

The room about Thaddeus was leveling out, and releasing a shuddering breath, he said, “this is kind of how my head felt after slammin’ it against that damn stall railing.” He took a shallow breath, “All these years, Dora, I ain’t never been able to forget that sickening feelin’ of fallin’.” Staring down the staircase, he shivered.

“And it made you not like tall places.” Eudora softly replied, laying her head against his.

Inhaling her lime coconut verbena perfume, he smiled; for him, the scent meant happiness. Except then, he recalled what Joséphine had said and done; his smile disappeared with a heavy sigh, thinking. ‘This difficulty with Lafe is damned upsettin’, and I already got enough worries.’

“You all right?”

He answered a quick, “Yep,” while thinking, ‘no, I can feel _mon_ self growin’ away from you, leavin’ you behind.’ From the slant of his eye, he studied his twin, ‘when all the others started in on how you would always be a child, I thought it was utter fuckin’ bullshit.’ He frowned, ‘but, _zut_ , Dora, I am leavin’ you behind. I can no longer deny it. What if’n my movin’ on shatters our bond?’

Seeing his frown, she sat up. “All right, grumpy, _qu’elle_ were you tryin’ to do?”

“Go see, Lafe.”

“Oh?" She shook her head rather quickly, "You cannot. He is talkin' with Father.”

“I need to be there.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, and swift as a hummingbird, her small hand darted out, and she traced a fingertip down the line of his face.

It tickled, and raising his hand to brush her away, Thaddeus caught a clearness in her eyes and froze, to the point of holding his breath. 'Her secret side is comin’ out.'

It was a part of her; he had named her true self and called by her full name. Years ago, he had abandoned trying to get their family to believe her true self existed as she only seemed to surface for him. The visits were always brief, filling him with such hope that he had come to love and loathe her true self, all at the same time. It was also the reason; he found it hard to fathom she would never grow up.

For when her true self, Eudora Lorraine, was present, then the aspects of the giggling child they knew so well, was gone. Moreover, when she arrived, it was as if she had awoken from a long sleep, and on waking, was confused. Therefore, when Thaddeus did pray, he prayed the child would one day be locked away, and his sister’s true self would remain awake.

Licking his lips, he whispered, “Eudora Lorraine?”

Pulling back, she frowned.

“Hey.”

Lines of concentration appeared on her brow, “ _qu’elle_ is wrong with you?”

“I been down with _maladie_.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Hell, I still got it.”

“I know that silly, itis more than that.” Her brows scrunched tighter. “You are different, somehow.”

He shrugged, giving her an airy half-smile that brought an immediate softening to his features, making him appear younger.

“Why do you wish to interrupt Father and Lafe?”

“Not interrupt, I want--”

She pulled back, looking down her nose at him, “You want to sneak in.”

Thaddeus tried not to smile.

“As I thought,” Taking in where they were sitting, she said, “Well, let us get you off these stairs, and you should know, I will not get in trouble with you this time.” Having said this, she shouldered under his arm, taking his weight on her as they stood. Moving closer, she blew a stray hair out of her eyes, “Keep leanin’ on _moi_ , Taddy; I am stronger than I look.”

He raggedly answered, “I know you are,” around the lump forming in his throat.

She stared curiously at him for a moment and then shook her head.

"I ain’t seen you in a while.”

“Hmm,” was her only reply as they inched down the stairs. Yet, each time he glanced over, she was staring at him, and he wanted, so badly, to ask, 'what are you thinkin?' Only, he was too fearful of scaring her off.

At the study door, he shifted, leaning against the wall, and taking a breath, finally asked, "Eudora Lorraine, tell _moi_ what is botherin' you?”

Her hand rose, hovering before his face, and hesitantly, she ran the tip of her finger across the prickly, black stubble covering his jaw. "You are becomin’ a man," she whispered, her tears reflecting in the dim light of the hall as they dripped from her face. "Taddy, you are leavin' _moi_ behind."

He made a strangled noise deep in his throat and taking her hand; he kissed it. “Stay with _moi_. Do not go back into hidin’. Eudora Lorraine, do not send _moi_ on alone.”

His pain spooked her, and all too rapidly, the Eudora everyone knew returned, smiling so hugely, he could see all her gums. For the briefest moment, she stared quizzically at his glassy eyes, then with a skip and a jump, she scurried away, gone as fast as his true twin had wisped back into hiding.

“Fuck!” he whispered, to the empty hallway, clutching his aching chest and blinking at the tears burning his eyes; he could still feel her touch on his face, and dropping his head, he took a long hard breath. ‘I ain’t never felt so alone. Lafe and Josie are excellent, but they ain’t my twin, my equal. But, we two ain’t equal no more…I have fuckin’ left her behind, and worse, Eudora Lorraine knows it.”


	24. Chapter TWENTY-ONE

Chapter Twenty-One

Nudging the door open with his toe, Thaddeus found luck on his side, for the latch had not caught when Lafayette entered earlier. Holding his breath, he crept into the semi-dark room with spots flickering before his eyes, to gratefully slide into one of the cowhide chairs flanking the door.

Leaning his sweat, slick body into the cool leather, he rubbed a thumb across the graven image on his crucifix, pleading. ‘ _S'il vous plaît_ , do not let _moi_ blackout. I need to hear Lafe’s side; not that I got any qualms over buckin' that damn Yankee out, if’n it will keep _m' frère_ from harm. Still, before I can, I must learn more.’

The light-headedness swirled away, and he opened his eyes, straining an ear toward the far side of the room, where Lafayette and their father stood near the French glass doors. 'Are they not speakin’ at all?’ Thaddeus thought, ‘Or, are they bein’ too damn quiet for _moi_ to hear?’ Shifting, he leaned out more, ‘ _Zut,_ if’n I move any closer, they will demand I leave.'

Just then, Antonio spoke, “Well, have you?”

“I have _non_ intentions on reconciling with Jo.”

“Lafe,” Antonio replied, regret heavy in his voice as he stroked his long, salt and pepper mustache. “It is true, on no account did our Great Maker create a harder creature to understand than a female. Yet, my son, the secret I have learned is…ladies have their own set of laws, and even as a man bends to adhere, they will change ‘em, purposely leavin’ a man to appear as a fool.” Snapping his fingers and bringing his hand to rest across his heart, Antonio robustly said, “Once you accept this as true, then no matter what a lady does, it will simply roll off you.”

“Father,” Lafe waved his hands imploringly, “Jo is---”

“She is precisely what y'all equipped her to be?”

Lafayette bowed his head, exhaling.

Thaddeus’ slowly shook his head, thinking, ‘Father must be hittin’ Lafe with that damn look that makes your blood take on gooseflesh.’

Then Lafayette rubbed at the back of his neck, and seeing him do so, Thaddeus released a prideful, crooked grin, ‘Hot damn, but he ain’t cowing _m’ grand frère_ in the least. Nope, Lafe is only takin’ his time considerin’ what he wants to say.’

Not knowing Lafayette as well, Antonio felt his son penitently listening and moved along with his chastising. “I will confess our dear girl is the cleverest, all-wrath stubborn lady in the County, maybe the State. Nevertheless, Lafe, you aided in her trainin’, so _you_ , above all, should not let her get under your skin.” Abruptly, Antonio reached out, snagging his son, forcing his head up. “Damnation, she is your blood!" Gripping tighter, he shook Lafayette’s chin like a terrier with a rat, "Your blood! Forever you will be honor-bound, and whatever she does, whatever happens to her; will fall on the heads of you boys. Never again, and _I mean never_ will you quarrel with her, or any lady for that matter. It is despicable, uncouth, and shows low-breedin’.” He shook him again. “Damnation, Lafe, you are no longer a child, and it is high time you live up to the role your life demands of you!”

Swallowing hard, Lafayette met his father’s challenging glare, thinking, ‘If’n I pretend humility, it would hasten this along. _Non_! Jo was in the wrong, not _moi_.' Sucking so hard on his front teeth that his nose wrinkled, he backed up, yanking his bruised face from Antonio’s painful grip.

Inside, his demon roared for the freedom it had been allowed earlier. Retreating two more steps, Lafayette thought, ‘Stay clear of’em. If’n he strikes you, _par_ _Dieu_ , it is certain you will return it in kind.’ Closing his eyes, Lafayette retreated more, breathing deep, working to suffocate his rage.

On hearing his father moving toward him, Lafayette’s eyes popped open, ready to retaliate against the blow he felt sure was coming.

Instead, his father paced by, hollering. “Hellfire, this might have been a damn fine time to use some of that intellect of yours. How can you not understand it is your God-given obligation, your duty to safeguard the ladies in your life, along with all those who look to you? There is no greater honor than being there for those who look to _you_.”

Slowly Lafayette’s head had risen as his father spoke, and dryly, bitterly, he said. “Sincerely?!”

Antonio spun, the color draining from him.

Lafayette grinned snidely, his left dimple pulsating. “You, _sincerely_ , see yourself fit to lecture _moi_ on being there for those who look to you?!"

From across the room, Thaddeus thought, ‘Well said, _Frère_.’

There was a moment of shocked silence, then Antonio rushed Lafayette intent on striking him for his impertinence.

But he froze.

The room holding its breath as the pair balanced on a knife’s edge, Antonio’s hand hovering in the air and Lafayette’s jaw raised, his eyes brimming with a challenge.

A long sad sigh escaped Antonio, and he lowered his hand. “Although, I do not care for your tone….” he sighed again, “…you are correct.”

Lafayette folded his arms across his chest.

“Time has made me understand I was wrong to leave y'all in the care of Peter and Simone.”

Lafayette remained silent.

“What do you want me to say?"

Still, Lafayette did not reply.

Wiping his hand across the front of his shirt, Antonio looked off and began speaking. "Afore I left home; your grandfather gave me some words of advice. He instructed that it is family, truth, and honor that makes a man great. I, unfortunately, took too long to understand what he meant, and when I disregarded y’all for my own selfish sentiments, I also discarded the best part of myself.”

The purple of evening was filtering into the sky, softening the colors of the room, and Antonio extended a hand toward his son, “Lafe, I apologize. I know I was not the father y’all needed.” Slipping his hands in his pockets, he looked down, “I hope that one day, people will speak of my sons being the great men I did not become.” Antonio shook his head, “however, for that to happen, for you; you must obey me.”

Lafayette inhaled sharply. _“Chiant!_ _Feu de l'enfer,_ ain’t I always strived to be _bonne fils_. Done all you or anyone ever asked of _moi._ ” Running both his hands back through his hair, he began pacing. “I do no longer want to obey. I want to be unanswerable like Gabe or reckless as hell like Taddy. Damnation, I am so fuckin’ weary of doin’ as told.”

“I understand,” Antonio answered, from where he sat on the corner of his desk.

“I do not want to behave any longer!”

Antonio nodded, removing a pair of cigars from a cedar metal-lined box sitting next to him.

“ _Zut,_ Father…” Lafayette shouted, “do you hear _moi?_ ”

“I would say the entire house hears you, Son.”

Lafayette ceased pacing with a snort.

Standing, Antonio said, “Life is rarely what any of us want.” He approached his son with a smile so broad, his thick mustache was bunched up against his cheeks. “And, this day, you did behave as recklessly as you wished.”

A corner of Lafayette’s mouth dipped down.

“How did breakin’ the rules and not being behavin’ go for you?”

An ill-tempered scowl was his answer.

Antonio chuckled, “Hell, Lafe, despite makin’ a few mighty poor choices, when it came down to piss and grit, you defended your honor along with the families. That in itself makes me swollen up with pride, and I do look forward to hearing from others how you dealt with that man.” Patting Lafayette on the shoulder, he offered him a cigar.

" _Non, merci,_ " Lafayette answered, returning to gaze out the French doors, his mind afire with questions. 'If’n he is so proud, then why is he orderin’ _moi_ South?’ Suppose I should not be too upset, ain’t like I was not plannin’ to leave for University in little over a month.' His throat tightened, and his heart set to pounding like a blacksmith on a hard workday. ‘Course, I did not know Celia then…’ Smoothing his lips together, he recalled the feeling of hers, the tightness in his throat edging toward pain. ‘I _promessed_ her I would return, and I meant it.’

Laying his throbbing face against the glass, he took a long, slow breath. ‘I comprehend Father feels he is protectin’ _moi._ Still, I want to stay here; perhaps, I can appease Celia. Besides, I do not want to run from _m’_ difficulties as he has.’ Exhaling, he muttered, “and, ain’t I _m’_ own _responsabilité_.”

Hearing more of a movement of air rather than the spoken words, Antonio asked, “What was that?”

Placing his back to the double-glass doors, Lafayette cleared his throat, “I deem, I am _m’_ own _responsabilité,_ and thusly, I am not inclined to depart for _Louisiane_.”

Chucking the unlit cigars on his desk, Antonio walked to the fireplace and, leaning against the mantle, thought, ‘Every fiber in me says this lieutenant will be after ‘em. How am I to protect Lafe, if’n he will not let me?’ Looking to his son, Antonio studied his drooping shoulders, outlined by the last evening light. “Do you feel I do not want you here?”

Silence filled the space between them and thinking he had found the source of the problem, Antonio nodded. “Lafe, it is essential you understand I want you here. Siena is your _home_. More than anything, I _want_ _you_ _here_. You must not think I am ashamed of you or that I deem you unable to defend yourself.”

“Then, why are you sendin’ _moi_ South?”

Hearing this, Thaddeus slammed bolt upright.

“I am assigning you the commission of escortin’ your siblings, as they must have a trustworthy chaperone on such an excursion.”

Lafayette rolled his neck, the bones popping audibly, and when he spoke, he sounded smooth as silk and bitter as an early persimmon. “I am havin’ a damn hard time swallowin’ your loosely veiled command for _moi_ to take a coward’s path.”

‘Coward?’ Antonio studied his son, and after a heartbeat, his eyes shifted to a sun-faded area of the rug. He felt he could, almost see there, a small, dark-haired boy sprawled like a cat, reading to his heart's delight. Quite suddenly, Antonio felt old and drawn thin as the shadows inching across the floor. ‘My time with him is gone; my lil’ boy has been replaced by a determined, powerful man. Why in the hell did I stay away so much?’

His eyes traced across Lafayette’s broad back, where he stood staring into the darkening yard. ‘Last winter when he came in here declarin’ he had decided to study law back in Kentucky, it had not surprised me none. Hellfire, Lafe has always been one for wantin’ fact and truth, which is what he wants to hear now. He is clever, and he wants me to admit, I am sending ‘em South to protect him from harm.’ Smiling ruefully, Antonio shook his head, ‘it would give him the entrance; he wants to dispute this further. Well, I am not allowin’ him to draw me into one of his long-winded debates. This time, _this last time_ , what I say goes, and he _will_ obey.’

Having made his decision, Antonio cleared his throat. “You will not be seen as a coward. You will be seen upholdin’ a commitment. No one who matters will think less of you for it.”

“Oh, you are accurate there,” Lafayette replied, his voice ominously low, and when he turned from the doors, the lighting making his expression impossible to see. Although his hurt could be heard sharply in his voice, “it is even reasonable that people will say you were rather ingenious for compellin’ _moi_ to leave.”

He walked toward his father, and Antonio looked away, not wishing to see the rebuke he felt sure was in his son's eyes.

“I can even appreciate the necessity of an escort on such a journey. However, _qu’elle_ I surmise our neighbors will murmur is, _'Why not the eldest son?'_ They will then shake their heads, saying, _'Oh yes, it is ‘cause Lafayette is weak and incapable of protectin’ his self.’_ As he spoke, Lafayette’s voice shifted to a snarl, “ _Chiant!_ I will not have them nattering about _moi_ in such a way! You want the others to go, then you can have Gabe escort ‘em but leave _moi_ fuckin’ be."

The softness Antonio had been feeling toward his son hardened to anger, and he roared, “Damn your hide, you dare bark directives at me! To curse me! I do not tolerate such insolence from any person, and being my son makes you no different. This is between you and me. Gabe has no part in it. Therefore, it will be _you_ who guides your siblings to the _Vieux_ _Carré_. Moreover, you will be leavin’ the day after. Do I make myself damn clear?”

“ _Non!_?” Thaddeus hollered, his voice cracking like a musket blast into the room.


	25. Chapter TWENTY-TWO

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Lafe, light a lamp!” Antonio ordered, striding across the room. “How dare you skulk in here uninvited!”

The yellow ring of light preceded Lafayette across the room, and when it revealed Thaddeus, Antonio inhaled, backing up rapidly.

Dodging about him, Lafayette felt a rush of fear on seeing his brother was whiter than newly fallen snow, and dropping to his knees; he set the lamp down, so hard the globe rattled, alarmingly.

“ _Jésus a pleuré,_ Taddy, _”_ Lafayette cried, placing a hand to his brother’s face, “You are on fire.”

Thaddeus gulped like a fish flopping in tall grass, “I am all right.”

Exasperation tinged Lafayette's words, “All right? _Zut!_ I have seen dead rosier than you.” Pivoting to see what their father thought, Lafayette scowled at the straight-out fear decorating Antonio’s face and turned back to his brother. “Hellfire, Taddy, you are supposed to be in bed. Ain’t that what we all keep tellin’ you? _Zut,_ are you tryin’ to put yourself in the bone orchard?”

Thaddeus’ eyes narrowed, and he tried to lick his lower lip and then forced out, “Who all is being sent to Orleans?”

At this, Antonio stepped forward, his mouth tight and eyes showing too much white, “All of y’all, ‘cepting Gabe.”

Pulling his hand from his brother, Thaddeus sat up straighter, and his head set to throbbing like it wanted to explode. He frowned and, with labored effort, sucked in a large breath, and used it to slur out, “I ain’t got a fancy to go.”

Taking a knee, Antonio peered closely at his youngest son, sadness creeping into his face the same way danger creeps into a room. 'This one just may die on me,’ thought, placing a hand along his son’s fevered face.

Instantaneously Thaddeus withdrew, leaning toward his brother.

Antonio covered his mouth with the rejected hand, grief settling into the lines of his face. ‘Lafe is correct; I have no right to lecture on honor and obligations.’ Leaning heavier on his hand, he eyed his sons with a look of such poignancy that if they had looked in his direction, they would have seen right into his broken, vulnerable soul. ‘I have neglected Tad even more than the others, and now, as he may pass from this world, he wants nothing from me.” Rising to his feet, Antonio stared vacantly into the darkness, ‘every image I have of Thaddeus is a boy who was too strong and wild for his own good.’

“Lafe…?”

“I am here, Taddy, and we should get you back to bed.”

“Not yet,” Thaddeus replied, his muscular frame wilted about him like a ragdoll. “I do not want to go anywhere.”

His words caught Antonio’s attention, and he thought, ‘How is it I have not noticed death has been clawing at my son with his skeletal fingers?’ Shaking his head briskly, he swallowed hard. ‘I do not want Tad to go anywhere, either, least of all with the specter lurking over his shoulder.’

Kneeling again, Antonio took up Thaddeus’ hand, and when his son tried to pull away, he did not have the strength. “How about you just remain here at Sienna?” Even as he said this, Antonio, morbidly, saw Thaddeus staying forever, out in the family plot, alongside his mother and the five tiny babes.

Thaddeus swallowed, his Adam’s apple visibly moving up and down his throat as he tried to keep his father in focus, “Lafe stay, too.”

“He will still be adjourning.”

Bowing his head, Thaddeus labored at drawing air in through his nose, his frame rising and falling with each deep intake.

“Taddy?” Lafayette questioned, leaning in, beads of sweat gathering along his face.

Thaddeus’ sharp, green eyes made their way to his brother, and he whispered, “Do you want to go?”

Lafayette averted his eyes.

When he did, Thaddeus sucked for air, despite how his lungs burned while considering all he had heard this evening, and without warning, his temper ignited. The more he fed his temper, the stronger he felt, and abruptly using his father’s shoulder to push upon, Thaddeus was on his feet. “Fuck all this, ain’t _non_ reason to force Lafe out of Cass. I will shoot that Yankee bastard, shoot 'em dead like the fuckin’ vermin he is.”

Leaping up, Antonio squawked, “Thaddeus Robert Crowe!”

Although, anything more he planned to say crashed around him as Thaddeus crashed to the floor.

Rolling him over, Lafayette cried, “Taddy.”

“Is he?” Antonio asked.

Lafayette placed a hand on Thaddeus’ chest and his ear next to his mouth, praying, ' _s’il vous plaît, Sainte Mère._ Do not let such a proclamation be his last words.’ Feeling a flutter of air on his cheek, Lafayette crossed himself, “ _merci beaucoup, Sainte Mère_.”

When Lafayette looked up at their dumbstruck father, anger sharpened his voice, and he barked, “ain’t you goin’ to fetch Doc Mathews?”

It was like a slap in the face, and Antonio came back to himself, announcing, “He requires a Doctor.”

Rolling his eyes, Lafayette hefted his brother into his arms, cringing when his hot skin settled against him. “I will carry ’em up to his _chambre_.”

Wanting to help, Antonio asked, “You sure you can care for him…alone?”

“I _toujours_ have.”

“Yes. You have.” Antonio replied sedately, “I will go for the Doc, and I will set a new record for reachin’ Harrisonville.”

Standing, Lafayette settled Thaddeus into his arms, and Antonio ran for the front door; opening it, he hollered, “Saddle Boreas!” He was about to leave, but hearing Lafayette’s step in the hall, he looked back, and all of a sudden, he ran to his sons. For a handful of breaths, he once more stared stupefied at them, and then he kissed Thaddeus’ dry, fevered brow and, before leaving, did the same to Lafayette. “I will not fail y’all this time. I will not.”

As he ran from the house, Lafayette began the steady climb to the second floor, and with each step, he looked down into his brother’s gray-green face. At the top of the stairs, Lafayette exhaled heavily, “ _Zut,_ Taddy, you are not allowed to die…you hold on, Taddy, hold on.”

Once in Thaddeus’ bedroom, Lafayette dropped him on the bed, “ _Par Dieu_ , I did not think I was goin’ to make it.” Bending over, he placed his hands on his thighs, dragging in a huge breath. "Swear, the closer I got, the heavier you got.” Straightening, he felt a burn run down his back, and with a hiss, he sank to the bed.

Lafayette’s brow twisted, and he lay a hand to his brother’s face, “ _Doux Jésus_ , you do not feel much different than grabbin’ hold of a hot skillet.” Chewing the inside corner of his mouth, he rose, ‘maybe I should get Mams.’ He frowned, ‘I do not want to leave you alone.’

Retrieving the basin and rag, he sat back down and began bathing his brother’s face and neck when a shrill voice croaked, “he is fuckin’ dyin’.”


	26. Chapter TWENTY-THREE

Chapter Twenty-Three

The appalling words spooked Lafayette so terribly; he about fell off the bed. Jerking around, he found they came from Eudora, standing by the footboard.

“ _Qu’elle_ did you say?” he asked, unable to fathom her making such a horrible statement.

Moving uneasily from foot-to-foot, she answered, “Taddy's dyin’.”

Lafayette's gut twisted. “Do not be a goose. He ain’t dyin’.”

Eudora panted faster and faster like a creature in pain until she screeched, “You do not know ‘em like I do. I say he is dyin’. I can feel it.”

“I say he _ain’t_!” Lafayette fired back, their voices blasting from the room like rifle fire.

“He is!” She shrieked, her hands flapping across the folds of her skirt like flightless birds.

The frantic look in her eyes chilled Lafayette to the bone, and yet, he could not stop staring at her. Out in the hall, he could hear footsteps and wanted to call for help but was held mesmerized by her rhythmic rocking while crooning, “Taddy’s dyin’, Taddy’s dyin’.”

“ _Sainte Mère!_ ” Simone cried, boiling into the room. “Lafe! You fetch _moi_ a bucket of well water and holler for Katharine to hasten in here with her smellin’ salts.”

Instead of leaping up, he remained riveted on Eudora’s wracking singsong chant, “Taddy’s dyin’. Taddy’s dyin’. Taddy’s dyin’.”

Whopping him on the back of the head, Mams thundered, “God’s nightgown MOVE!”

With a jerk, he bolted from the room, and she dropped into his vacated spot, “Aw, _m’ fils,_ what have _vous_ gone and done?” Pulling on Thaddeus, she shoved pillows behind him until he was sitting upright. Although, when she leaned in to listen, a cold knot formed in her stomach.

Closing her eyes, Simone concentrated on what to do and, for the first time, heard Eudora. Opening her eyes, she turned to the girl. " _Vous_ hesh up. Hesh up now, Dora _bébé_. I will not let ‘em die. Cease frettin’ so.”

Eudora shook her head, slanting her green eyes from her twin to Simone, her singsong picking up tempo and volume.

“Leave off actin' such,” Simone chided. “Go, run downstairs, fetch _moi,_ a liquor decanter.”

Eudora’s mouth clamped shut, except her hysteria could not be contained, and as sharp as a raven’s caw, she began shrieking, “Dyin’… Dyin’… Dyin’.”

Rushing in, Joséphine echoed Eudora, “he is dyin’.”

“Enough!” Simone shouted, slapping Eudora, “Do as I say and fetch _moi_ that whiskey.”

Shaken from her trance, Eudora plowed into Joséphine, knocking her to the corner, where she sank to the floor.

A dark shadow flitted across Simone’s face, ‘I have not got time for these dramatics,’ she thought, returning to Thaddeus.

“Oh! _Bienheureuse Mère Marie,_ ” Katharine said, making the sign of the cross as she entered and hastening to the opposite side of her brother’s bed.

“Do not be lettin 'em spooks _vous_ none,” Simone said. However, when she took the smelling salts from Katharine, her fear showed in her shaking hand.

Passing the salts under his nose, rewarded them with a snort, followed by a meager intake of breath. But, no more.

Simone nervously moistened her lips. Pressing the salts closer, she patted his cheeks.

The hushed breaths were coming further apart.

Desperate, she reared back and struck him hard.

With a lurch, he gasped, inhaling the acidic ammonia, and began coughing with gusto, sucking air in-and-out by the mouthful.

"That is, it, _m’ fils._ You breathe deep of that _bonne_ air.”

Sluggishly, his eyes fluttered.

“Looks at _moi_ , _m’ fils_ ,” Simone demanded, her voice stretched tight.” Look at _moi!_ "

Lethargically, his dilated eyes swung to her, with only a glint of green showing.

“ _Vous_ stay with _moi,_ Taddy _,_ stay with _moi_.” She kissed him and began bathing his face while humming ‘ _Come Sinners to the Gospel Feast.’_

Hearing Lafayette come in, she broke from her humming, to say “set that pail down and retrieve _deux_ more.”

“Mams is he--”

“Do not talk,” she snapped. “Do what I said and much faster this time.” Taking up the bucket, she looked to Katharine. “ _Vous_ move from ‘em.”

Standing, Katharine held her tongue, only questioning Simone with her eyes.

“We must cool ‘em down.” She lovingly stroked Thaddeus' face and then, with deliberate slowness, poured the well water up-and-down him.

When the frigid water splashed across his feverish skin, he inhaled, gagged, and began sucking in great gulps of air, and no sooner had she finished than Lafayette ran in sloshing water all over from two more buckets. Dropping the one she held, she extended her hand for another.

By the time, the second bucket was empty, Thaddeus was dragging, rattling drafts of air into his lungs. Yet, he still managed to stutter out, “hellfire...that is colder...than a witch’s tit.”

“Mind your tongue, _garçon_." Simone chided, but she smiled. “This here water is what's required to get that heat out of _vous_. Katharine _fille,_ hunch 'em up over his knees so he can catch hold of his wind.”

As she squeezed in behind her brother, a shiver ran the length of Katharine’s spine, her full skirts soaking up the water.

“More… push his head on down, in between his knees, so his ribs spread out. He needs lots more of that _bonne_ air.”

When Simone took up the third bucket, Katherine’s eyes widened as it moved toward her brother’s back.

Simone nodded, “ _Vous_ best get a _bonne_ hold on 'em _._ ”

“Taddy,” Katharine squeaked, “brace yourself.”

No sooner did she get the words out then the first drops splashed the pair of them.

Thaddeus cried out, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

“Do not blaspheme! It is a sin, and ‘bouts now is not the time for _vous_ to be sinnin’.” Simone chastened, pouring water along his spine and across the back of his head.

Setting the empty bucket on the floor, she motioned Katherine to release him and turning his face to her; Simone kissed his forehead, “ _Remercier le Seigneur_.” Wrapping him in her arms, she kissed him repeatedly before ruffling his hair and sprinkling water all over the three of them. “The fever is breakin'.”

Taking a fortifying breath, Simone turned to check the others.

Lafayette was at her shoulder.

Joséphine had not moved from the corner.

George, their old house slave, was in the hall holding a weeping Michaël, and behind him, Eudora was peeking into the room with red-rimmed eyes.

“Come here, Dora _fille.”_

She crept in with the outline of a hand standing starkly across her pale cheek.

Simone sighed, “poor _bébé, très apologies.”_ She kissed Eudora’s cheek, cradling her close, but thinking, ‘it had to be done. Shame on her standin’ there callin’ ol’ Mister Death rights to ’em.’ Giving her a final hug, she took the decanter from her cold hands.

Leaning in close, Eudora studied her twin with eyes bigger than hen eggs, “How come you ain’t dead?”

Thaddeus’ nose wrinkled, and he snarled, “ _Qu’elle diable_ kind of question is that!?”

“Hush now," Katharine soothed, rubbing Thaddeus’ back. "Dora was worried and had herself confused, is all.”

“I told _vous_ nots to frets so,” Simone said, looking to Dora while pouring a liberal amount of whiskey in a glass and handing it to Thaddeus. “Drink this.”

Fast as a whippoorwill, he swallowed the golden liquid, “Whew! Talk about hittin’ the spot.”

“Is not for _vous_ to be enjoyin’,” she scolded. However, her eyes twinkled, for Simone knew her baby would not meet St. Peter this night. “Lafe, c _héri,_ we need more water.”

“ _S’il vous plaît, non_ ,” Thaddeus pleaded, his eyes roving across the soppy mess that had been his bed. Then with a grunt, he moved to crawl out.

“ _Vous_ stay put," Simone commanded. "Matter of facts, Katharine, let us get ‘em down in the wet and cover ‘em.”

Thaddeus' eyes widened until they showed white all the way around.

“That fire _vous_ felt a need to build up, is not altogether been snuffed out.”

Inching and moaning his way into the soggy bedding, Thaddeus released not one word of argument, even as Katharine and Simone tucked the freezing blankets about him.

“And, when Lafe returns, _vous_ can rest easy. I plan to pour it down _vous_ , rather than over _vous_.” Cupping his cheek, Simone laughed, “So, _vous_ can cease givin' _moi_ those sad eyes.”

Feeling the chill seeping into her bones, Katherine passed her brother an understanding smile of encouragement.

Pushing herself up from the corner, Joséphine cleared her throat, “Mams, what can I do?”

Simone eyed her. “ _Vous_ mights find Margie and assist her in gettin' Katharine out of her wet clothes, afore she, too, comes down with _maladie_. Then hustle up Betty and Marie. I want Lafe’s bed freshened with clean sheets and the blankets layered with hot stones. And, George, _vous_ get that _bébé_ out of here.”

George nodded, leaving.

“Oh, and Josie, _vous_ tell them _deux_ lazy _filles,_ I best not have to speak to 'em.”

Later, tucked snug and warm in Lafayette's bed, Thaddeus' eyebrows twisted at the sound of hooves pounding up the drive.

“ _Jésus a pleuré_ , I clean forgot, Father went for Doc Mathews.”

Quicker than a breath, Simone snagged Lafayette's ear, giving it a particularly savage twist, wringing a high-pitched yelp from him.

“What have I told you about blasphemy?”

“It is a sin.” Lafayette gritted out, rubbing his throbbing ear while laying a look on Thaddeus that had his brother choking down his snorting laughter.

Shaking her head, Simone looked from one to the other. “Days are I think _vous_ _deux_ will _toujours_ be _petit garcons_.”

Both grinned back at her.

Stifling a yawn, she patted Thaddeus’ arm. “We do not require the Doc _non_ more. Still, we do not wants to injure his pride. Let 'em come up and poke at Taddy.” Tucking a cowlick of almost dry hair behind Thaddeus’ ear, she kissed his cheek. “ _Mon fils, je t'aime. Vous_ cannot be a scarin’ _moi_ so terribly.”

He nodded.

“And Lafe _fils,_ do not allow ‘em to be dosed with _non_ more quinine or arsenic. I do not give a hickory stick what the Doctor says ‘bout it being modern medicine. It has not been helpin' m’ Taddy any, and I will have _non_ more fed to him. Is we clear?”

“ _Oui,_ Mams,” Lafayette replied, with a vehement nod. "In fact, we are in exact accordance."

Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed Lafayette’s cheek, “when did _vous_ grow so tall.” She patted his chest, with a warm smile, “I am headin’ for bed; you do as I told you.”


	27. Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

Chapter Twenty-Four

Hours later, Lafayette’s eyes flared wide. Seeing nothing in the darkness, he sat up, tossing the tangled sheet from him, grasping at his dream. 'There was fire and something else,' wiping a hand across his hot face; he shrugged, yawning until his jaw popped.

Flopping back in the bed, he yawned again, feeling some of the discomfort from his dream flit away. Burrowing into the goose down pillow, another yawn took hold, filling his nose with Gabriel’s scent. With a grunt, he threw the pillow from the bed. Snagging another, he gingerly sniffed it. Deciding it was not Gabriel’s usual, he settled down, closing his eyes.

After a bit, he thought, 'perfect; I am wide-awake. Figures Taddy gets a clean bed, and I am left to sleep in Gabe’s wallow. Swear I can smell ‘em all over _moi_.' Flipping to his other side, he bunched the pillow; ‘wonder where the hell _m’ grand frère_ is anyways?'

Returning to his back, Lafayette laced his fingers behind his head, 'course Gabe, ain’t never confided much in _moi._ Suppose it could be ‘cause he is eight years _m’_ senior.” Lafayette’s brow furrowed, ‘Or, is it?’

Staring into the black room, it came to him like the flare of a match. ‘Bet it is _Mère’s_ death? Peter once told _moi_ how Father up and disappeared an entire year after her burial.' Running his tongue across his upper teeth, Lafayette considered more on this. ‘Gabe and Katharine must have felt like orphans. I ain’t never felt that way, _toujours_ had Mams and Peter to watch over _moi_ and…Father, when he was home.’

‘More I think on it, this has to be _qu’elle_ separates Gabe… and Katharine, too, from the rest of’n us. Strange, it ain’t come to _moi_ afore? Also, it explains why Gabe avoids Father. Damnation, I bet I am correct.’ Lafayette nodded with a smug smile. ‘Perhaps, I oughta ask 'em?’ His smile became a chortle, 'yeah, and perhaps, I ought to go ahead and ask for a punch in the nose while I am at it. ‘Cause, it is most certainly _qu’elle_ a question of that sort would acquire _moi._ ’

Another long, hard yawn took hold of Lafayette, and he frowned, thinking. ‘Why am I awake? Could it be the dream? _Feu de l'enfer,_ cannot recall when _une_ last woke _moi_. Maybe, it was Taddy?’ At this, he sat up, swinging his feet to the floor.

Yawning again and scratching at the back of his head, he jumped when a brilliant flash of light filled the room, followed by a roll of thunder so powerful it set every glass pane in the house to rattling. Standing, he padded on the balls of his feet to the double glass doors. Pulling them open, a moist, almost cold air swirled in, and he stepped onto the veranda. ‘It is still bone dry.’ Studying the southern horizon line, where lightning was painting the sky, he nodded, ‘but it will be here soon enough.’

Putting his back to the still warm surface of the house, he inhaled the rose garden’s sweet aroma, wafting up from below, while watching the clouds, one after another, spring to brilliant life. “Looks to be over Harrisonville,’ and before the thought was finished, something in him dropped like a heavy rock into a still, deep pool. ‘Celia is in Harrisonville.’

Rolling his head back and forth across the hard surface of the house, he raked his teeth across his lower lip, causing sharp splinters of pain to flare from the ragged, split leftover from the fight. ‘I sure as hell showed her the worst of _moi,_ the _très_ worst.’ Cold shivers tracked along his muscles. ‘I _vraiment_ deem, I _amour_ her and like a damn fuckin’ fool, I ruined everything.’

Pushing off the wall, he paced the length of the veranda; the ache in his heart became more oppressive and harder to bear with each step. Until, at length, he shuddered out a sigh that felt like a part of his soul was attached. “You did, you found _amour…qu’elle_ else could this feeling be? You found as Jackson said, ‘the _une.’_ Then…then…’ He saw him fighting O’Rourke again and being bodily hauled to the stables. ‘ _Dieu,_ I am such an imbécile. After _qu’elle_ she saw, ain’t _non_ way she could want _moi._ Hell, most likely, she would not even feel safe ‘round _moi._ Yep, you up and lost ‘er.’

Batting his eyes, Lafayette turned his face to the encroaching storm, and after a time, he went back inside. As he latched the French doors, another shattering boom rocked the house, and he yelped, jumping, despite knowing it was thunder.

“Lafe?”

Walking into his own bedroom, Lafayette leaned against his bed’s footboard, “You should be asleep.”

“First crash woke _moi_ , been lying here thinkin’ ever since.”

“‘Bout _qu’elle_?”

“How much faith that Yankee Lieutenant has in you being a Border Ruffian?”

Lafayette shrugged, “Appears Father has more faith in _qu’elle_ that man thinks than in _moi_.”

Thaddeus snorted, grunting, “fuck ‘em.”

Lafayette chuckled, “Which one?”

“Both of ‘em.”

“Does not matter; I created _m’_ problems,” Lafayette replied somberly, running a hand along the footboard. “It was a mistake attackin 'em.”

“ _Merde_ _,_ I would have jumped 'em long before you did.”

“And, it still would have been a damn mistake.” Lafayette snarled, going over and dropping on the cowhide settee. " _F_ _eu de l'enfer_ , with the current politics, it was more than a brawl."

“You rightly know I do not give a rat’s ass ‘bout politics, so if’n you are fixin’ to take that path, there ain’t much I got to say.”

“I know, Taddy.”

By the flashing storm light, Thaddeus watched his brother worrying at the ragged split in his lip. As the silence drug out, Thaddeus cleared his throat. “Tell _moi_ , _qu’elle,_ you are frettin’ over?” For a long while, the only sound was the cottonwood trees creaking painfully in the wind, and looking toward the French doors, Thaddeus thought, 'when this is through, there is goin’ to be damage to clean up.'

“I built up a notion in _m’_ mind,” Lafayette said, breaking the silence, “that this border rubbish would eventually subside; all I needed do, was stay clear until it did. Even had _mon_ self believin’ Congress would keep us from a National War. But Taddy, I been flat out deluding _mon_ self."

“So, that is _qu’elle_ has you so twisted up?”

“ _Zut!_ I was goin’ to remain impartial ‘til this all blew over.”

“Ain’t that _qu’elle_ you been doin’?"

" _Oui_ ," Lafayette replied sadly, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed.

"So, _qu’elle diable_ is so different?”

Lafayette sarcastically replied, “Oh, let _moi_ see… _today_.”

“Today?" Thaddeus questioned. Then his voice dropped an octave, “Oh! You mean the fistfight."

Lafayette snapped back, " _Oui_ , the fight.”

Laying a hand on his brother’s arm, Thaddeus reconfirmed. “I would have done the same damn thing.”

“Obviously, _you_ would have,” the words cracked like a whip.

Thaddeus stiffened, pulling away.

“Taddy, _excusez-moi,_ I did not mean to insult you." Heaving out a rush of air, Lafayette stood. " _Chiant!_ Just ‘cause I am pissed at _mon_ self, ain't _non_ need to be takin’ it out on you."

Thaddeus chuckled softly, “Sit the fuck down, and say your piece.”

Grudgingly, Lafayette took a seat, “Instead, of usin’ _m’_ intellect, I plowed right into O’Rourke, fuckin’ lumping myself with those _imbécile_ red-faced secessionists.”

“It will be all right. Lafe, you will see.”

“ _Non._ It will not. Jackson’s positive the Country will go to war, and with _moi_ bein’ sent to _Louisiane_ , I run the chance of being forced to enlist when it starts.”

Thaddeus fidgeted with his crucifix. “Which side do you think Missouri will be on?”

“Northern.”

" _Qu’elle_? Why?"

"Missouri ain’t got as many slave owner’s as people like to think.” Lafayette answered, “Makin’ Missouri is more aligned with Northern ideology than that of the Deep South when it comes down to it."

“The North," there was a little boy quality to Thaddeus’ voice that drew Lafayette's attention.

“ _Oui._ ”

"Lafe, we both been trained our duty is to our _famille_ and our State. But our _famille_ comes from the South. How am I to fight against our own?”

“I deem you just struck upon a problem that will plague Missourians durin’ this War.” Lafayette patted Thaddeus’ leg, “Missouri… Northern in ideology with Southern blood.”

“I am serious.”

“Well, so am I.”

“Lafe, if’n you join up in _Louisiane_ , it might be you I wind up fightin’.” Thaddeus' voice dropped, “I cannot do that.”

“Then do not.”

“How? I ain’t goin’ to be given any more damn choice than you ‘bout joinin’ up.”

“At least, you will not be in a metropolis surrounded by flag wavin’ secessionists,” Lafayette replied snidely. “Who knows, I might not enlist. Hell, we can be shirkers together. Besides…” He sighed, “I still cannot see honor in the prospect of slaughterin’ man after man for a cause I do not believe in. Until _une_ of 'em does the same to _moi_.”

Thaddeus thought to argue that he too would be forced to enlist, except by a burst of lightning, he saw how rapidly his brother’s dimple was moving and decided against it.

' _Qu’elle_ a hypocrite I am.’ Lafayette thought, ‘sittin’ here sayin’ I do not want to murder another, and if’n Jackson had not stopped _moi,_ I would have done just that today. And, for _non_ more reason, then he tarnished _m’_ _honneur_.’

As the silence lengthened between them, Lafayette began wishing he had lit a lamp so he could see his brother's face. "Taddy, I hope I ain’t made you too ashamed to call _moi_ your _frère_?”

“ _Bonne Dieu_ , Lafe, there ain’t anything you could ever do to make _moi_ ashamed!”

“Then why, after I laid myself open, so much silence?”

“I was givin' you room to think and...so was I."

“Well, spit it out.”

“If’n we do not fight…here, well, will Southerners… _qu’elle_ I mean is men we know, will they come to Sienna gunnin’ for us? Well, for Gabe and _moi_ anyway, 'cause you ain't--” Thaddeus' mouth snapped closed, so fast his teeth clicked together.

‘And so, it begins.’ Lafayette darkly thought, ‘I ain’t even gone, and it is Taddy who is the first to say how I will be safe and secure from any hostilities that may visit Sienna. _Zut! I_ told Father; he would have _moi_ branded.'

In the darkness, the brothers said nothing, unsure what the other was thinking. After some time, Lafayette chose to ignore Thaddeus’ slip and focus on his brother’s concerns. “By not enlistin’, Taddy, you will remain a civilian. Rules of war are reserved for soldiers, so if’n you are a civilian, you will not have anyone shootin’ at you. However, if’n you do not join up, are you prepared to be called a coward or worse?”

“I am not sure.”

“Well, you need to be. ‘Cause, you ain't goin’ to be able to start a brawl over every slight." Standing, Lafayette crossed to the double glass doors. “And Taddy, if’n you need _moi_ , you send a wire. _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ ; I will return even if’n I have to wade through both battle lines to get to you."

Thaddeus nodded and, realizing his brother could not see him, softly answered. "I know you would _._ "

Again, the silence stretched between them, growing painful, and to break it, Lafayette commented, “It is rainin’ to burst the gullies out there."

“Uh, Lafe, I want to say… ‘bout _moi_ sneaking into the study earlier. I was in the wrong. _Mes apologies_.”

Lafayette continued to watch the front-drive churning into a fast, flowing river, thinking. ‘Apologizin’ ain’t _une_ of Taddy’s finer points. Yet, when he does choke _une_ out, on his own accord, he means it. Still, the damn truth is, I feel like rippin’ his ass for invadin’ _m’_ privacy.’

More thunder rocked the house.

"I understand you being 'round the bend with _moi_ and all.” Thaddeus coughed lightly, “Hell, I am sure; I would be madder than a cornered coon. But, come on, Lafe, I admitted eavesdroppin’ was wrong, and I _did_ apologize."

“And I heard you.”

“Well?”

“I _pardonne_ you.” Lafayette returned to the bed. “Also, you owe _moi,_ Taddy, _‘_ cause I am lettin’ you off this time.” He gripped his younger brother’s shoulder, giving it a shake. “You ever, and I mean ever, invade _m’_ privacy again, and I will flatten you 'till you cannot walk straight for a week.”

A hot flush ran across Thaddeus, “Lafe, I--”

“ _Non…_ go to sleep. You need it.” He released his brother with a pat on the side of his head, “I will see you in the mornin’.”


	28. Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

Chapter Twenty-Five

For hours Lafayette laid in bed reflecting over Celia, Louisiana, eventualities of war, and how he had ruined his life. By the time he fell asleep, the rain had ceased, and the birds were twittering. From the edge of his awareness came insistent rapping, and a corner of his mind said, 'someone is requestin’ entrance.' Rolling over, he moved the pillow from his face to have the morning sun, painfully, blind him. Annoyed, he cried out, “ _Qu’elle_!”

“Mister Lafe, I am comin' in.”

Squinting through narrowed eyes, he watched Marie enter balancing a silver tray, bearing a steaming pot of coffee along with thick slices of bread, spread with butter and jam.

Marie had been a part of Sienna since his eighth year, and these ten years later, she still carried with her a blush of youth. Overall, she was a tiny little thing wrapped in calico. Her dark face, regularly, gleaming merrily from beneath an intricately wrapped vermilion tignon. “These be Miss Simone’s words, they are not mine, and she says I am to say ‘em to you, just as she said ‘em.”

Grumbling deep in his chest, Lafayette dropped an arm across his face, already sure of what he would hear, “Go on then.”

“Well, she says, ‘You is to get your shiftless skin out of that bed, or she will be ups here afore you can blink an eye.” A grin played around the corners of Marie’s mouth. “Mind you, Mister Lafe, those are her words.”

Through a long wide-mouth yawn, he garbled, “sounds like her.” Pulling the pillow over his head, he thought. ‘I am dog-tired. Why in creation is Mams so interested in when I get up?’ Lying there, he felt Marie watching him. “ _Merci,_ for the _café,_ be a _chèr_ and go tell Mams I am up.” He said, hoping she could hear him from beneath the pillow because no part of him wished to face the glaring light again.

“If you say you up, Mister Lafe, then you is.”

He lay there listening to the rattle of the tray as she placed it on the sideboard, the whoosh of coffee being poured, and her scurrying about snatching hold of his discarded clothes. Grasping, she was still there; he peeked from beneath the pillow. “Q _u’elle,_ Marie _?_ ”

“You should know, she were mighty firm when she was speakin’ ‘bouts you risin’ from that bed.”

“Do I not look like I am gettin’ up?”

Marie's eyes narrowed in her delicate, oval face, “I hopes you are Mister Lafe. You know she can hear everything goes on in this house, better than a cat, she can.” Then, with a rustle of cloth, and a whiff of vanilla, she was gone.

Tugging the pillow down tight, Lafayette groped for his blankets, throwing them too over his head. The warm, soft bed felt luxurious and burrowing deeper; he savored the sluggish feeling, telling himself, ‘all I need is another hour.’

He was uncertain how long he had slept before his snug, comfortable world was smashed to smithereens.

“Lafayette Henri Begnoir, get your dawdling self out of this bed,” Simone bawled. “I got tasks for _vous. Vous_ is too old and too young to be slackin’ so from the harness.”

Rolling over, Lafayette barked, “fine, I am up!”

“Do not be takin’ that tone with _moi, Fils,_ ” Simone answered, glaring fiercely at him with his bedclothes still trailing from her hand. “ _Vous_ should already done been up.”

Placing his bare feet on the floor, Lafayette grunted, “ _pour l'amour de Dieu,_ I am up.”

“What have I tolds _vous_?” Simone snarled, flinging down the blanket and reaching for an ear. His shying hard to the left caused her to miss. “ _Garçon, vous_ be steppin’ out on the wrong foot this here mornin’.”

Sitting there trying to raise the gumption to stand, he heard Thaddeus laughing at him from the other room, and with a loud snort, Lafayette’s face twisted into a sneer.

Hearing his snort, Simone snapped her fingers, “ _Vous_ cease being trashy! And cease trifling with _moi, m’ fils,_ I am in _non_ moods for it this day.”

Scratching his belly, Lafayette muttered, ‘how is that different from any other day.”

Simone spun, pinning him with a look that would make a mule-driver back up.

Shifting his eyes from her, Lafayette pushed himself up to stand on legs wobbly from lack of sleep. At his first step, a shooting pain surged down his back, sending him lunging forward in a gulping whine.

Still glowering at him, Simone placed a hand on her hip, " _Qu’elle_ be the matter with _vous_?”

“ _Christ sur une croix_ , _m’_ back is bunched in a thousand knots from carryin’ Taddy."

This time he was not so fast, and the grip she seized on his ear had him up on his toes, "How many times I gots to gets onto _vous_ ‘bout the sins of blaspheme?"

" _Mes excuses_ , Mams, _très desole._ ” Lafayette whined, “ _s'il vous plaît,_ I _promesse_ ain't goin’ to blaspheme _non_ more." Her grip already about had him on his knees, and he cringed, dreading the wrenching pain of when she yanked. When it did not come, he peeked open an eye, and to his amazement, she was smiling.

"It be awful _bonne vous_ is headin’ down to visit _Madame Begnoir-Bueford,_ 'cause do not think for the blink of _m’_ eye, I believe _vous_ ain't gonna blaspheme _non_ more."

The corner of his mouth quirked.

She grinned back, giving his ear a ruthless twitch that raised a red-faced howl from him. "Now, mind your tongue and gets movin’."

Hobbling across the room, toward the cup of coffee, Lafayette felt tenderly of his ear.

" _Vous_ is a downright wreck, and _vous_ looked so fine when you left here yesterday. I was mighty proud of _vous_. Now, looks at _vous_."

Leaning against the sideboard, Lafayette peered back at her through his black eye, "It was a long day."

"Amen to that. This here goin’ be a long day, too. So, _vous_ gets on down to Peter and has ‘em slather up your back with lineament and slap a compress on that eye. Then gets yourself rights back up here,” she said pitilessly. “Cannot believe I have to drag _vous_ out of bed.”

Leaning heavier against the sideboard, Lafayette thought, 'I have had hangovers better than this.' He took a long drink of coffee, wishing it were hotter while listening to Simone yank the bedsheets into proper alignment.

" _Vous_ listenin' to _moi_."

" _Oui_."

“Then toss over that pillow.”

He bent with a drawn-out moan and retrieving the pillow; he lobbed it toward the bed.

Snagging it from the air, Simone slammed it in place, “ _Vous_ any notion what time it be?”

“ _Non_.”

“It is near _neuf_. Whoever heard of a healthy person sleepin’ till _neuf_?”

“Aw, do not kick, so, Mams. I ain’t feelin’ so healthy, and _m’_ head hurts.”

“So, does mine. Here the Mister plans on sendin’ y’all South.” She walked over, looking through the doors at Thaddeus. “Humph, sendin’ _m' bébé's_ a visitin’ without givin’ _moi_ time to prepare ‘em properly. Well, do not matter.” She shook her head with a grunt, “I am not allowin’ y’all to arrive to the _Vieux_ _Carré_ lookin’ like poor relations. It sure gonna be a load of work, gettin’ that much packin’ done in so short a time.” With another shake of her head, she waved a hand in Thaddeus’ direction. "Him ‘bout worthless, Gabe off gallivantin', that leaves…” she glared at Lafayette.

Lowering his cup, he passed her a crooked, swollen smile.

“… _vous_ , who wants to sleep ‘till supper like some _Dauphin_.”

Bowing his head, he took another drink.

“Of course, I done used up all _m’ bonne_ years carin’ for y’all.” She pointed first at Lafayette, then to Thaddeus. “carin’ for _vous_ just as if’n y’all were _m’_ own blood. And ain’t a neither _une_ of _vous_ care a smidgen your Mams be gettin' feeble.”

Both of Lafayette’s brows raised, and he bent lower over his coffee cup, drinking deep.

Loading a saucer with a slice of bread, Simone pointed at the pot.

Double-quick Lafayette splashed coffee into the additional cup, scooping in several spoonsful of sugar, the way he knew Thaddeus preferred when given a choice. The entire time he did this, she made grumbled beneath her breath in French, shaking her head at him.

“Aw, Mams, do not carry on so.”

“The _vous_ tell _moi_ how I should carry on.” She snapped, picking up the dishes, she marched for Thaddeus, but halting between the two rooms, she looked from one of her charges to the other.

The brothers both grinned apologetically.

“Pair of _vous_ realize, I am a free woman.” She looked pointedly to each. “If’n y’all plan on treatin’ _moi_ this way, after all the _amour_ I ladled on _vous._ I am thinkin’; I should take _mon_ self home to _Veux Carré_.” Then she turned flaming eyes to Lafayette. “Wait, I cannot do that. V _ous_ will be there."

"Mams--."

" _Non,_ I will simply find _mon_ self somewhere else. Take _moi_ a ship to France, make _moi_ a _nouveau_ life, where I have _non_ _garçons_ treatin’ _moi_ poorly.”

A chuckle slipped from Thaddeus.

“Taddy _fils_ do not get _moi_ started, _vous_ be just as wicked as ‘em.” She pointed to Lafayette; coming the rest of the way into the room, Simone set the cup on the bedside table. “Uh-hum, just as wicked. _Vous_ had us all in a tizzy, done broke Lafe when I needs him, and all 'cause _vous_ is unable to follow directives. Well, _v_ _ous_ best be keepin' yourself right mindful of your _promesse,_ and that includes keepin’ your backside in this bed.”

Thaddeus quietly responded, “I am, and I will.”

“ _Vous_ best, ‘cause, Taddy _fils_ , I rightly know you ain’t spry enough to escape a switchin’."

A snort escaped Thaddeus, and he sucked in his lips, his eyebrows rising, and his green eyes enlarging to the size of gold dollars.

"If’n _vous_ got a lick of sense; you will swallow that laughter, afore it becomes your doom."

Having shoved a plate into Thaddeus’ hand, Simone stomped to the bedroom door to the main hall and flinging it open; she threw a final baleful glare at the brothers. “ _Deux_ of _vous_ is gonna lay _moi_ in _m’_ grave.”

After the door slammed shut, Thaddeus said, " _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ , she is heated up."

“You best not speak so loud; she might hear you," Lafayette replied, selecting clothes from his chifferobe and pulling them on. As he did, he grunted in pain to the accompaniment of Thaddeus' laughter until, at last, he spun on him. "If’n you do not fuckin’ hush the hell up, I am goin' do it for you."

"The way you are movin’? _Par Dieu_ , you are the _une_ person in this household I can outdistance, so I sure would like to see you try _Grand Frère._ "

Lafayette played out a well-oiled twisted smile, "Once you are healthy enough to flatten, you best be watchin’ over your shoulder, is all I got to say."


	29. Chapter TWENTY-SIX

Chapter Twenty-Six

Reining in his horse along the ridge, where below him pale fingers of early morning light striped the misty valley, Lafayette nodded, ‘It sure is _belle._ ’

In the center of the meandering valley, a massive limestone and wood barn towered over paddocks, silos, and a double row of cottages, all of which were surrounded by lush, green, rolling fields. The same fields Lafayette had run across as a child. Inhaling deep, he thought he could smell the clean, sweet tang of the purple prairie clover.

A movement caught his eye; it was their herd trotting through a swath of coneflowers and red milkweed on the way to the creek. The rocky creek that rambled across their land sparkled in the humid air, and he smiled as the horses waded in, pawing the surface to drink.

Even as high up as he was, he could hear the snorting squeals of the young stallions as they frolicked, rearing at each other in challenge. Off-handedly, Lafayette thought, ‘they will need to be separated soon.’ His chest tightened, ‘will not be _moi_ doin’ it, nor will I be doin’ any of their trainin’…’ He swallowed, shaking his head, focusing on building a lasting memory of the long-legged horses, each of which he knew by name.

He nodded again, and breathing deeply, shifted his gaze to the copse of cottonwoods standing sentry about Sienna’s Great House. “I will miss those trees, the sound of ‘em whisperin’ in a breeze and the way the settin’ sun alters their waxy, green leaves to flickering pieces of gold.”

As he spoke, Coffee’s ears twisted toward Lafayette, and when he fell silent, the horse curved his head back, eyeing his rider. “Another minute, _Garçon._ ”

The sun topped the ridge illuminating the three-story, white square villa with scrolled, iron verandas wrapping gracefully about it, and Lafayette could swear his heartbeat slowed as he studied his home, thinking. ‘Would I have felt the same when I left for University? Or, is it ‘cause I am being ordered to leave?’

Coffee pawed the ground, sending skittering rocks over the edge.

“Easy _Garçon_ , stop that.” Lafayette edged the horse backward, “I cannot see the front door, kind of wish I could. I do not need to…I know where it is. Still, I wish I could. Whenever I ride down the front-drive and see that huge door, I know I am home.”

Saying this, he recalled the tale of his Mother’s insistence on the front door being painted red. From what he had been told, she was moderately superstitious. In this instance, she adamantly believed only happy occurrences happened behind red doors.

Knowing Sienna’s history as he did, Lafayette reckoned her beliefs were a bit off. Yet, come last fall, his personal views had not stopped him from adding another coat of paint.

Coffee sidestepped, switching his tail and shifting in his saddle. Lafayette stilled the horse. “Coffee, I ought to ride down there and inform Father, I belong here, and I will not be sent away. _Feu de l'enfer_ , Sienna is as much a part of _moi_ as _m’ nom_.” Nodding, he spun the big bay, prepared to trot back to the Great House, and was surprised to lock eyes with Peter.

Standing in the road, smiling sadly with his hands in his pockets, the old trainer beckoned Lafayette to come along.

His eyes dropping to the reins woven between his fingers, Lafayette worried at the scab, encrusting his lower lip.

Stepping up to the carriage parked on the side on the road, Peter called, “Lafe son, that time has passed.”

Lafayette’s gaze drifted to the picturesque scene below. ‘Peter’s right, I cannot return. I chose to behave like an unthinkin’ child, and this is _m’_ consequence. Mams has said _m’_ temper would bring _moi_ sorrow.’ He sucked of his front teeth, ‘Suppose I never consider the depth of her words.’

Then tugging his broad-brimmed, black hat down, so it shadowed his glossy eyes, he pointed Coffee toward Peter, muttering, “Sure wish, this was _une_ time, Mams could have been wrong.”

Seeing him coming along, as required, Peter climbed into the driver’s seat of the three-bench carriage with a frown cutting deep trenches in his ebony face, 'It ain’t right. This here will change Lafe, and he will grow to detest Mister for sending 'em away.’

Taking up the leads, Peter hipped to the pair of mahogany bays, and they leapt forward, their merrily, jingling harnesses out of harmony with the somber mood of their driver.

With the carriage in motion, Webster whistled sharp and high. The big-boned workhorses yoked to Sienna’s freight wagon, dug their hooves into the white chat road, and speaking soothingly; Webster encouraged them until they were moving in a relaxed, flowing walk.

The green freight wagon seemed small in comparison to the tall man driving it. Around Sienna, no word was ever spoken of Webster Eugene Bueford’s father. However, Gena Lorraine declared Webster free, gifting him her family name the day Simone bore the boy.

Webster was resourceful as he was strong and gentle as morning rain. He had grown to adulthood shoulder to shoulder with the Crowes and saw them as his family. So, when Lafayette rode up alongside him, Webster’s pale copper eyes, naturally, slanted his way. “You all right?”

Lafayette shook his head.

“Want to talk?”

Lafayette shook his head harder, not wishing to lash the man he often thought of like an older brother, with his sullen mood.

More than an hour passed, and throughout, Lafayette felt Webster's gaze, repeatedly, on him. Once during that time, their eyes met, and for a few clip-clopping seconds, they shared an understanding before parting to ride on in their separate thoughts.

Already feeling lonesome, Lafayette sighed, his shoulders drooping as he thought. ‘Once we board the steamship, both Peter and Web will return to Sienna.’ He peeked to Webster, ‘he ain’t goin’ to be ‘round to yank _moi_ out of harm’s way, as he is want to do.’

‘For the life of _moi_ , I cannot fathom why Father would not allow Web to tag along. He sent Katharine’s maid Margie for the _filles.’_ Gently, Lafayette pried at the swollen skin about his black eye. ‘Sure, wish this damn thing would peel open, so I can see better.” He snorted lightly, ‘ _Feu de l'enfer_ , thought I was goin’ earn another shiner the way Father reacted when I argued for Web to come along _.’_

Lafayette’s jaw clenched tight, and raising his head, he appraised the carriage holding his sisters and mumbled. “How could Jo go so far as to even suggest I wanted Web as a manservant?”

“Lafe?”

Not bothering to look over, Lafayette grumbled, “Nothin’ Web.”

“Do not look like nuthin’. Ride closer, _Petit,_ tell _moi_ of it _.”_

Lafayette picked a stick-tight from his saddle blanket.

“Come on, _Petit,”_ Webster motioned Lafayette over. “Time will be upon us when we ain’t gonna be able to converse _non_ more.”

At his true statement, Lafayette steered his gelding in close to the wagon.

“ _Qu’elle_ is _vous_ considerin’?”

Lafayette shrugged.

Webster took a swig from a blue glass bottle that Lafayette knew was filled with sweet tea because Webster never left home without a bottle of sweet tea. “Nuthin’, huh.” He took another swig, “Well, if’n I was _vous_ , I would be damned pissed at ‘er, if’n I was _vous._ ”

Lafayette’s head whipped up.

“And, _Petit,_ I can tell _vous_ , Gabe ain’t gonna care one lick for any of this, when he finds out, neither.” Webster looked off at the woods trailing by, “Wish he was here.”

“I do, too.”

“Figure’d you did.”

Lafayette sighed.

“You be headin’ for Madame Begnoir-Bueford, though, that cannot be too _mal_.”

“It ain’t.” Lafayette looked over at Webster. “You realize, _qu’elle_ Jo said, ‘bout _moi_ wantin’ you as a body servant…” Lafayette looked down and away, “…that was rubbish.”

“ _Vous_ ain’t got to tell _moi_ that, _Petit._ “A chuckle rumbled from Webster, “So, that be _qu’elle_ _vous_ are frettin’ over.”

“That and a lot more.” Lafayette passed him a wane smile, “also, I did not know _qu’elle_ you might be thinkin’ of _moi._ ”

“I know where _vous_ stands, Lafe _Petit_. I know your heart.” Webster raised his chin toward the carriage, “More times than she should, she speaks out afore thinkin’ her words through.”

“A body servant! _Feu de l'enfer_ , I done labored right by your side, you taught _moi qu’elle_ work was and then she up and says _connerie_ like that _._ ”

“Do not let it dig at you so,” Webster replied, shaking his head.

“But it does.” Exhaling hard, Lafayette studied the jagged horizon, thinking. ‘It surely does. Just like most of _m’_ pals, I grew up doin’ hard labor, ain’t none of our places got enough flat land for money crops like it is down South. Proves again, _qu’elle_ I was sayin’ at the picnic, we all might be Southern at heart, but when it comes down to the line, we sure as hell ain’t part of the Cotton Empire. Most of’n us only grow enough to support our place, and ain’t _non_ stable of slaves needed for that.'

Turning his right palm up, Lafayette ran a finger across the calluses, 'ain't smooth and pretty like a Deep South Planter's son.' He grinned smugly, 'Makes me twice as glad I am a Missourian where we value the virtue of workin’ _qu’elle_ you own.’

Webster grunted, “ _Petit_.” Holding out a canteen, “ _vous_ done chewed your lip enough, that split is bleedin’ all over. Rinse your mouth.”

Pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, Lafayette scowled at the blood smeared there.

“It be like I always tell _vous_ , _Petit,”_ Webster cajoled, “ _vous_ frets over _qu’elle_ others might think far too much.”

“Cannot help it.”

“ _Oui, vous_ can.” Webster took the canteen back, “ _Vous_ live for yourself. Cease worryin’ _qu’elle_ others is doin’ or sayin’.”

“Fine, if’n that is the case, I will start with Father. Just turn Coffee ‘round and go right on back to Sienna. Would that be _bonne_ way to start livin’ for _mon_ self?”

Another chuckle rolled from Webster, “I see, it gonna be _une_ of those days, where _vous_ has set out to be purely contrary.”

Lafayette shrugged, “You said, I need to work on livin’ for _mon_ self.’

“ _Oui,_ I did. ‘Ceptin,’ we all would like to keep _vous_ alive.”

“Truly, Web, how likely is it that anythings goin’ come from a simple fistfight?”

“ _Vous_ know as well as I, how likely it is.”

Lafayette’s gaze shifted to the freight team, watching their dinner plate size hooves lift and drop in a smooth, rolling rhythmic pattern.

Hitching his elbows on his knees, Webster casually studied Lafayette thinking. ‘Lafe is gonna be a forlorn soul with only _filles_ about ‘em. I heard the loneliness settlin’ in his voice when he was arguin’ for _moi_ to go along with ‘em.’ He shook his head, exhaling low. ‘Sure, do feel for ‘em _._ ’ Clearing his throat, Webster said, “You will find pals down there, most likely get yourself in some _feu de l'enfer_ difficulty _.”_

“Why, of course, I will,” Lafayette responded, starting to smile, but then he turned dour. “Yeah, of course, I will. Has not Father made it absolutely clear, I ain’t capable of handlin’ _mon_ self right here in Missouri?”

“I am positive that ain’t _qu’elle_ he means.”

“Still, how am I to be the sole protector on this trip when I ain’t ever had others dependent on _moi_ from top to bottom afore?”

“ _Vous_ use your head, and _vous_ will do just fine.”

Contemplating what would be required, on and off the boats, Lafayette sucked at his front teeth, making them whistle, “ _Jésus a pleuré_ , Web, how much unrest you think Jo is goin’ to pile on _moi?_ Katharine will pull her own; even do _qu’elle_ she can to make it easier. But Jo?”

“I would advise a _bonne_ place to start is holdin’ tight of that whipsnake tongue of yours when dealin’ with ‘er.”

The corner of Lafayette’s mouth twitched enough to make a dimple appear, and he studied the trunks weighing down the wagon. “How in Lucifer's barbed tail did we wind up with fourteen trunks? And now I must ensure not _une_ of 'em is mislaid while keepin’ track of everything else.”

“Sounds like rest of’n us have more faith in _vous_ than _vous_ do yourself.”

Lafayette’s face bunched, and pulling up Coffee, he dug in his vest.

Turning on the wagon seat, Webster called “ _Petit?”_

“I will be along,” Lafayette answered, removing a silver cigarillo case.

“Lafayette?!”

“I will.”

“Do not be thinkin’ to hoodwink us.” Webster pointed a finger at him, “It would not behoove _vous._ ”

Rolling his unswollen eye, Lafayette grunted, “I ain’t, just want to ride alone, to think a while.”

Webster nodded, hipping the team and muttering loud enough for Lafayette to hear, “trustin’ _vous, petit frère,_ trustin’ _vous_.”

With the blowing wind, it took Lafayette more than a minute to light the thin cheroot. “Let us hang back, Coffee. I would prefer our last ride not to include eatin’ dirt the whole way.”

Out of Sienna’s sizable stable, Coffee was his favorite. The gelding was eager to please, sure-footed, fast, and intelligent. As a stallion, he had been damn ornery to fight, but castration had honed him into the most reliable horse on their property, at least to Lafayette’s way of thinking.

" _Jésus a pleuré,_ I am not even being permitted time to arrange you to accompany _moi_." He started the gelding in a smooth walk, talking softly to the horse. “Reckon I was ten last times we visited _Grand-mère_. Under any other proviso, I would be elated to be headin’ to the _Veux Carré_.” A glint came to his eye, “Since _m’_ last visit, the _Carré_ has filled _m’_ imagination and many of _m’_ dreams. I ain’t _jamais_ forgotten how life there is both exhilaratin’ and lethargic at the same time.”

 _“Par contre_ , it did not charm Taddy. Not in the least bit. _Mon frère_ complained ‘bout the heat being wet, the air tastin’ foul, and how plain filthy the city was. Even went so far as to inform Mams, she should cease preachin’ ‘bout how civilized the _Carré_ was, ‘cause everyone there smelled like they were past due a bath.” Lafayette chuckled at the memory, and Coffee flicked his ears. “Unsure who was more bent out of shape on that visit, Taddy or Mams.”

A corner of Lafayette’s mind spoke up, saying, ‘Bet it does not take Jo long to _amour_ the _Carré._ ’ His good humor dispersed. ‘Curse her! She turned _qu’elle_ would be an adventure into a penance. Furthermore, she ain’t even grasped how she ruined _moi._ Taddy should be here, _not her._ ’ Thinking this, all the morning's pre-dawn activities came back to him as sharp as a reflection in a mirror.


	30. Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

Chapter Twenty-Seven 

Not only had they all risen well before the roosters, but Thaddeus came downstairs shaved and fully dressed to join them for breakfast.

Seeing him, Antonio bellowed, “Why Tad, you look fine as cream gravy.”

“I would say I out stubborned that dirty, backstabbin’ ague,” Thaddeus replied, slipping into his customary seat at the dining table.

Walking by, Simone felt his neck and face. “There be _non_ heat to 'em.”

Squealing a loud yahoo, Joséphine snatched her little brother's hand as he reached for a platter of food, “Ah, Taddy, how glorious!”

“ _Merci,_ ” he replied, breaking free to pile his plate with griddle cakes, grits, fried potatoes, ham, and eggs, all of which he drowned in sorghum syrup. Without giving the others another thought, he dug in, washing large mouthfuls down with gulps of hot coffee. Becoming aware of his twin staring at him, he winked at her, "Mornin’ Sis."

“Taddy, this means you are goin’ with _moi_?”

All sound ceased, with every eye veering to Father.

Ignoring them, Antonia set his cup down on its porcelain saucer, turning it until the red and gold floral designs lined up just so. Next, he methodically wiped his long mustache before saying, “Right fine proposal, Dora. I, too, reason your twin is showin’ his self-sufficiently healthy to accompany you.”

Lafayette's one unswollen eye opened wide. But, before he could share his joy, Simone declared, “ _non_ , he ain’t.”

All swiveled to the opposite end of the table, where Simone sat cutting a slab of fried ham to tiny pieces for Michaël.

They were not shocked to see her sitting there. Years back, Father had let loose with quite the long-winded tirade, framing his words in assertions regarding Simone being a free female of color, and to hell with anyone who did not see her as fit to eat with his children.

However, the hollow truth had rung out like a church bell, and that was, someone needed to sit with the children to train them in manners, which meant Simone, as Antonio was seldom present. Since then, she had sat at the table, even if Antonio was present unless there was company. Then she would shake her head, proclaiming, ‘It ain’t fittin’.’ 

Raising his chin, Antonio asked, “Simone, did you say something?”

“I said, _non,_ he ain’t.”

The siblings shot looks from Simone’s unruffled expression to their Father’s contorted, reddening face and then to each other.

Glancing to Thaddeus before returning his attention to Simone, Antonio carefully said, “I deem being down South will be far healthier for ‘em.”

“I know what _vous_ be contemplatin’, Mister. It do not matter, 'cause he ain’t puttin’ _une_ toe _-_ off Sienna.” Simone answered flatly, sliding Michaël his plate.

“If'n you feel privy to my thoughts, why are you presumin’ to speak against me?”

“Cause him...” she waved her fork at Thaddeus, “... ain’t as hale and hearty as he is puttin’ on.”

Interested in what his brother thought of the verbal duel, Lafayette’s eyes flicked to Thaddeus, finding him engrossed in his breakfast. Except as he watched, it came to Lafayette; his brother was deliberately shoveling food in, and leaning on the table, he studied him closer. The corner of Lafayette’s mouth quirked up as he thought, ‘humph! 'If’n Taddy breaks off, for even a second, he knows his tongue will betray ‘em.' Lafayette smiled at his insight, nodding, ‘surmise he would like to contend he has beat the ague. ‘Cept, doin’ so would also be him sayin’, 'I want to go to _Louisiane._ ' Which I rightly know is as far from the truth as declarin’ there will be strawberries in December.'

Wanting to look in his brother’s eyes to further confirm his theory, Lafayette tapped the table before Thaddeus’ plate.

The movement, more than the sound, caught Antonio’s attention. Seeing a silent conversation occurring between his sons, he slammed a hand down, causing the table to shudder beneath his blow.

Simultaneously, they jumped, turning to face him with empty expressions.

Antonio felt even more sure they had been sharing a joke at his expense, and trying to fathom what it might be, he switched his gaze to the family's known prankster.

Thaddeus only blinked back, his face smooth as new writing paper, as he popped smaller and smaller pieces of the biscuit into his mouth.

Lines about Antonio's eyes deepened, and he jabbed a finger at his youngest. "You are goin’!"

“I said, he ain’t.”

Antonio’s focus did not leave Thaddeus, but his voice held a coldness fitting the depths of winter. “Simone, you are makin’ a mistake. You best back down!”

“I am regretful _vous_ feel so. Buts, I stand by what I said, and Taddy is not takin’ any journey.”

Antonio exploded to his feet, his chair flipping like a tumbleweed to crash against the wall. “You forget your damn place. I am the master of this house…” He motioned down the table, “and everyone in it. I will not have a nigress dictate how I shall run my home. Furthermore...” His words faded, his dark eyes sliding across all the upturned attentive faces, except for Thaddeus’. He was pointedly fixed on the painting of the Muses, hanging above the side buffet. Tilting his head to the side, Antonio gave serious scrutiny to his youngest and, noting the muscles popping along Thaddeus’ jawline, he thought, 'So, I do have his attention after all.’

Stepping around the table, Antonio placed himself between the painting and Thaddeus.

At last, the green eyes riveted on him

Antonio’s nose wrinkled, ‘Damn his hide, he is workin’ up the gumption to defend Simone. Hellfire, it does not surprise me none. This one has forever been on the wrong side of the fence from me.' Placing his hands on the back of the chair, which was Gabriel’s, when home, Antonio snarled, “Great God, this conversation is done. I have the final say at Sienna, and I say he is goin’ South."

Thaddeus maintained his defiant stare.

Rearing back, Antonio kicked the leg of the chair, rattling the entire table. "You understand me, Thaddeus Robert?”

Other than a slight flaring of his nostrils, Thaddeus held tight to his impassiveness.

Looking around at all of them, Antonio strode from the room, hollering, “I know you do, _Boy_! So, have your damn traps packed afore the hours done.”

Before Antonio made it from the dining hall, Simone interrupted his grand exit by jumping to her feet and sending her fork clattering down the table. “ _Oui,_ _vous_ is the master. Ain’t _non_ argument about that, _Monsieur_ Crowe. And, _oui,_ I might be forgettin' _m’_ place. Only, I know these _bébés_ ; know ‘em better than _vous_ do.”

Antonio halted, freezing where he stood.

“It was _moi_ who sat up all hours workin’ sweet milk into the twins when there be _non_ wet-nurse. It has also been _moi_ who tended every wound, fever, and sniffle all these _bébés_ ever had.” She waved around at the table, “and, even now, _moi,_ who they come to when they need _amour_ ‘cause _vous_ ain't _une_ to givin’ it out to 'em.”

When Simone ceased speaking, the silence became so fragile that the floorboards' subtle creaks as she moved to stand behind Thaddeus sounded loud as crashing glass. “And it was _moi_ who fought for his life only a night ago.”

Rounding on her, Antonio’s face was as pale as a whitewashed wall.

“ _Monsieur_ Crowe, I do not care whats _vous_ do to _moi._ I am tellin’ _vous_ I understand Taddy.” Simone placed her hands across Thaddeus’ shoulders. “He ain’t as strong as he is puttin’ on, and I ain’t about to let _vous_ murder _m'_ _bébé_.”

Antonio’s mustache quivered, and in this moment, when he looked his weakest, Eudora hopped up to stand beside Simone. “Mams be right, and I ain't leavin’ without Taddy.”

Seeing Lafayette’s mouth opening, Antonio growled, “Lafe, do not speak! You and Josie done made your choice at the picnic. Katharine, I do apologize, but the rest of’n you are still leavin’. I will deal with the twins later.” Then, with one final contemptuous scowl, he stomped from the house.

Inhaling deep, Lafayette let the air out slowly and turned to his brother with an arched brow. However, when they made eye contact, Thaddeus looked away. Surprised, Lafayette peered about the table.

Katharine turned to wipe at Michaël's tears.

Joséphine avidly considered the food she was pushing about her plate.

Simone briefly met his eyes while Eudora inspected details on her dress.

Standing and swallowing the last of his coffee, Lafayette said in a rush. “Think I will go on down to the stables.” Not one of them responded, squinting an evil look at Joséphine, he spun, thinking, ‘it ain’t _m’_ damn fault we have to leave.’


	31. Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Out on the porch, Lafayette popped a cheroot in his mouth and, patting his pockets, cursed, " _Chiant!_ Left _m’_ matches upstairs.” Sucking on the small cigarillo, he eyed the front door, 'Ain’t _non_ way I am goin’ back in there, not with ‘em all starin’ at _moi_ like a nest of vipers. I can get a light down at the barn.'

Walking along the top of the half-wall toward the immense white, wood, and stone barn, he thought, ‘First time I ever seen Father cave, course, I ain’t ever seen Mams so fired up either.’ Jumping down and taking a seat, he fumbled through his pockets again. ‘I figure, Father did not cave, so much as feared Mams might be right.’

Recalling how it felt when he believed his brother was dying gave Lafayette a chill, and standing, he rose up on his toes and sank back down, blowing out a lung full of air. ‘Ain’t no use thinkin’ on any of that.’ Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked about, ‘where the hell is Gabe?’

He glanced at the barn, frowned, and began walking the drive’s edge back up to the house. ‘When I heard Peter and Father discussin’ Gabe’s absence, yesterday, I damn-well did not expect ‘em to turn so unfriendly when I mentioned, _‘who in their right mind was goin’ to mess with Gabe?’_ I was merely tryin’ to make ‘em feel better.' Small traces of light were beginning to glint in trees along the eastern horizon, and Lafayette turned his gaze to the golden lantern glow spilling from the barn. ‘ _Doux Jésus,_ I bet he is loitering ‘bout in establishments best not brought up in polite company.’

Turning into the side yard, Lafayette wove through the line of cottonwoods and rose bushes, rolling the cheroot to the other side of his mouth, he muttered. “Still, I was serious. _qu’elle imbécile_ would mess with Gabe?” Pausing, he plucked a cicada shell from a tree. Holding it up in the pale light, he examined the golden outer skeleton then placed it atop a tight, little rock of a rosebud.

‘Does not make sense Father chewin’ on _moi_ so. Especially considerin’ how he usually goes on ‘bout Gabe… _‘My eldest son is a true Crowe, strong with Crowe Gaelic warrior blood. Yes sir, my Gabriel is prime! Unlike my younger ones, they were dosed with a bit much of their Mother’s aristocratic blue blood. Ain’t neither of 'em ever going to grow to fill a portion of the shadow Gabriel throws.’_

Even recalling their Father’s prideful boast, Lafayette had been hearing since he was a boy caused his stomach to pinch. ‘ _Zut!_ It galls the hell out of _moi;_ way he expounds over all of’n us like we are so much breed stock. _Chiant_ and him boastin’ like that with _moi_ and Taddy right there, used to get us riled and ready to fight ‘bout anything.’ Lafayette shot a look toward the French doors of the dark study. ‘Poor Mams _toujours_ had to settle us down. Cannot recall how many times she said, _‘what Mister says is true, neither of vous is ever goin’ to fill Gabe’s shadow. But, m’ fils, a time will come when vous will be so handsome, non shadow will dare fall on vous.’_

Kicking at a fallen branch, Lafayette cursed, “ _Feu de l'enfer!_ We was only _garçons_ when she would say that, and it _jamais_ went far at makin’ us feel better.” He plucked a tiny cottonwood leaf, twirled it in his fingers, and then taking out his cigarillo case, he tucked the leaf away inside. ‘Although, now that I am older, I can see she was correct, ‘cause people tend to walk on by Gabe, avoid ‘em really, in their efforts to greet Taddy and _moi_. When I think on it, I find it sad, ‘cause _m’ Gran Frère_ has a _bonne_ heart, even if’n he does have the look of a man to avoid.’

A frown touched Lafayette’s mouth as he thought, ‘suppose, I should be glad I do not get much Gaelic blood, if’n that is where Gabe inherited his oversized jaw and thick-lidded, drooping eyes, both of which give him such a sluggish, slow-witted appearance. However, _m’ Gran Frère_ is far from slow-witted. He trained _moi_ how to out-think, out-barter, and generally outwit people.' Not seeing any movement outside the barn, Lafayette sank with his back to a cottonwood, and closing his eyes, listened to the birds while inhaling the scents of Sienna.

‘Well, if’n Gabe is sleepin’ off a drinkin’ jag. Leastways, he ain’t goin’ to have to face Katharine when he returns. Last time, he told _moi,_ she trailed after him cryin’ and carryin’ on so badly, he felt like a speck of dust on a donkey’s ass. Still, I sure wish he were here. Would like to see ‘em afore I am sent away. _Jésus a pleuré_ , he might even be able to sway Father's judgment.’

Hearing rocks crunching, Lafayette opened his eyes to Peter and Webster, bringing up the teams, standing he told himself. ‘Best make _une_ more sweep of _m’_ _chambre_ ; grab _m’_ wallet, matches, and whatever else catches _m’_ attention.”

Having moved through his room gathering belongings, Lafayette was halfway down the main stairs when he heard, “Holds up.” Looking up, he saw the twins standing against the second-floor dark Walnut railing.

Turning, he bounded up the stairs, pulling Eudora into a tight embrace, and around the scratchy tightness in his throat, managed to say, “ _tu me manques.”_

“You will be missin’ from _moi_ also,” she answered back, kissing his face, repeatedly, whimpering, “come back soon, _Gran Frère_.”

“Soon as I can, soon as I can.” He gasped, kissing her cheek and pulling her close, wanting to hold tight of her lime coconut verbena scent. “ _Je t'aime_.”

She slipped from his arms, and he was left with Thaddeus.

The brothers eyed each other, and with a sniff, Thaddeus extended his hand, “we ain’t ever had a call for farewells.”

Grabbing the extended hand, Lafayette pulled Thaddeus into a strong, tight hug. “ _Non,_ we ain’t, Taddy. _Tu me manques…feu de l'enfer_ , you truly will be missin’ from _moi_ , _s'il vous plait,_ take care of yourself.”

“You, too,” Thaddeus answered, gripping his elder brother tight. “I mean it. Hell’s gate, look at the difficulties you had without _moi_ watchin' your back for just _une_ damn day.”

Pulling back, Lafayette smiled weakly and pressed his forehead to his brother, “ _Je t'aime, Frère Cadet._ ”

Gripping the back of his neck, Thaddeus mumbled throatily, “ _Je t'aime, Grand Frère, tu me manques._ ” Then, with a deep growl, he pushed Lafayette away. “Go on and get, afore you have _moi_ weepin' like a damn _enfant_.”

Nodding, Lafayette kissed Eudora once more, then trotted down the stairs. From the dining room, he raised his hand with a faltering smile that scarcely brought forth his dimples, and before leaving the house, he made sure to stroke Boreas Red’s bronze statue.

Charging out the door and down the front steps, he launched himself on Coffee and moved the animal away from the others, saying their farewells.

Seeing him do so, Simone ran from the carriage, chasing after him. “ _Mon fils._ ”

When she reached for him, he sprang from the saddle, swooping her into his arms.

Pulling back, she searched his face, running a caressing hand along his cheek. “It breaks _m’_ heart to see _vous_ go.” She hugged him, “ _vous_ will do well with the Begnoir-Buefords _;_ they are your blood.” Hugging him tighter, she kissed his neck. “I pray I will again see _vous_ , _m’ fils. Je t'aime.”_

“I ain’t leavin’ forever. I will be back,” Lafayette answered, then looking straight into her golden eyes, he softly said, “Mams…”

She sniffled, sucking hard on her lips.

His throat was so dry, it felt hot with fire, "I ain’t ever been apart from you, and I will miss you more than I can ever put into words. Afore I leave, I want you to know to _moi, vous_ are _m’ Mère._ "

“Oh, _bébé, Je t'aime_. But, I ain’t your _Mère._ Your _Mère_ was a grand _Madame._ She would be--"

He stopped her by placing a finger before her mouth, “Does not matter. I have _non_ bond with her, you have _toujours_ been _m’_ _Mère,_ and you _toujours_ be. _Je t'aime._ ” Kissing her on each cheek, he stepped back, climbing once more aboard Coffee

“ _Je t'aime, mon_ Lafayette Henri.” Simone placed her hand over her mouth after saying this and, with a final look, walked quickly back to the house.

It was then, Antonio called, “Lafe.”

Turning the gelding, Lafayette held him where he was, forcing his father to walk to him.

When Antonio arrived, he placed a hand on Lafayette’s knee, and looking up; he easily read the varied layers of pain on his son’s red face. “It will not be as terrible as it seems now.”

Lafayette nodded briskly, sucking hard at the insides of his cheeks.

“I am placin’ my trust in you, and I want you to guard over 'em.” Antonio pointed to the carriage. “ _All_ of 'em. You do it day and night, keep ‘em safe. And, Son, do not forget family, truth, and honor.” Giving his knee a squeeze, Antonio’s voice tightened to a whisper, “Make me proud, Lafayette.”

“I _promesse_ to do precisely as you command, and then I shall return.”

Antonio shook his head, ‘we will discuss your return later.” He took a moment to study Lafayette before saying, “figure you do not believe me, but I want you to know I do this because I love you.” Then with a final squeeze, he walked away.

Ahead the green freight wagon with its flashing red wheels was disappearing over a rise, and jerking himself from his recollections, Lafayette urged Coffee into an ambling trot. In short order, he passed Webster with a nod, and trotting by the carriage, he tipped his hat to Katharine and Michaël while averting his eyes from Joséphine.

Riding to the front, he thought, ‘she has taken everything from _moi…_ Sienna, _m’ Frères,_ Mams, and.. _m’_ chance for _amour_ with Celia. I loathe her. However, I will guard her unto _m’_ death, but beyond that, I will not be an ounce more than cordial.’


	32. Chapter TWENTY-NINE

Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Tuesday 25 th October 1859**

'At last,' Lafayette thought, as their packet steamer edged into the Port of Orleans. ‘By _mon_ self, I would have arrived weeks ago.’ He glanced at his sisters, resisting the urge to frown.

His initial hint the journey was to be a reparation of his sins was when Peter reined the team in, that first day, to set up camp; long before the sun had tinged the western sky orange.

When he commented on how many hours of sunlight were left, Peter had robustly laughed, saying, _'Last you traveled with ladies, you was still a boy. Yep, all y’all young ’unes was overjoyed to halt, off explorin' soon as your feet hit dirt. This here time, you be a grown man. Do you not know, ladies wear down effortlessly? You best listen…any proper gent will allow time for a lady to rest, else wise he will wind up with a sick filly on his hands.'_

Later, when Peter swung the caravan east toward Lexington, Lafayette had asked why they were not taking the shorter road to Kansas City. This time Peter had looked him over as if he might have hit his head before saying, _'Why Lafe Son, there be a military garrison in Kansas City. Mister done tolds me there undoubtedly be a warrant with your name on it. I ain’t going to be takin' you nowheres near that place. I intends on keepin’ you out of harm’s way, and I be takin' you to Rupe’s Landing, a right good Southern area.'_

When they began traveling the river, Lafayette had felt they were at last on their way until they ported in St. Louis. Here Katherine had sighed, complaining of being exhausted, and he had answered, ‘I will hasten us on another boat. Try to get _une_ leavin’ within the hour; that way, you can rest as we continue South.'

Her face had pinched up as if she had bit straight through the skin of a lime, and in a lofty tone, she had informed him. _'Bless your heart, Petit Frère Cadet; you do not fully appreciate what I have said. I am exhausted, and therefore, I wish to sleep where I shall not fret if the boiler will explode or if we will run aground on a snag and sink. Quite Frankly, I had believed you mature and refined enough to suggest a night or two on land. Alas, Lafe, since you have not. I am imparting on you now, I wish to sojourn to a hotel, and I am prayin’ you are clever enough to take proper care of the remainder of the trip.'_

Afterward, he had taken ‘proper care’ arranging layovers, so they toured what a town had to offer, shopped, ate in the best restaurant, and retired in the choicest hotel. In this way, they languidly hop-scotched down the Mississippi, arriving in New Orleans along with the cool breezes of autumn.

Which was just as well, for once temperatures rose in New Orleans, it was inevitable for Yellow Jack to arrive with its deadly fever. Each summer, it flitted up-and-down the cobblestone streets; having no mercy, it slaughtered indiscriminately any who crossed its path. Therefore, families with means, such as the Begnoir-Buefords, closed their city homes to spend those precarious summer months in the airy country, where Yellow Jack scarcely visited.

As their packet bumped against the docks, the Captain peeled off whistle-blast after whistle-blast, clearing space for the ‘swing boys.’ At each stop, Lafayette had watched the lean youths secure the ship’s ropes to the docks before lowering the long planks to shore, and still, their agile skill amazed him.

As he watched them, he thought, ‘the slowness of our travel does ensure, _Grand-mère_ has returned from the Begnoir plantation, _L'eau Sucrée.’_ Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeper, feeling the tension built up in his muscles loosen. That is until he saw his small nephew leaning way over the ship’s railing.

Plucking off his wide-brimmed, western hat, Lafayette passed it to Joséphine and swung his nephew up onto his shoulders. “Mikey ride up here. You will be able to see more.”

Pointing to the busy docks below, Michaël squealed, clapping his hands, and wobbling dangerously.

“Whoa, _garçon_! If’n you are goin' to ride, then you must hang on with both hands.”

“ _Oui, Oncle_ ,” Michaël answered, latching hold of Lafayette’s frock coat collar.

Katharine smiled appreciatively at her brother, and with a brisk nod of his head, Lafayette shifted his focus to the congested river of people ebbing along the docks. His glowing eyes darted here and there, trying to take it all in at once; heaps of bananas, row after row of cotton bales piled four and five high, green sugar cane, baskets of flowers, fish, fruits, so much he could not decipher the exports from the imports. A myriad of aromas swirled upwards, ripe produce, coffee, sweet pastries, fresh bread, roasting nuts, the pungent bite of the sea, livestock, and the unwashed scent of the people.

Over everything was a heart-pumping melody wending its way across the harbor, blending with the rowdy babble of voices until they fused, creating an opera. Concentrating on various speakers, Lafayette distinguished Spanish and German scattered amongst so many languages, some he did not know at all. Although, binding all it together, was the effervescent, lilting broken French of the Creoles, the authentic language of the _Vieux_ _Carré_.

In the distance, the gleaming spires of the St. Louis Cathedral stretched their blue-gray slate peaks to heaven. Squinting, Lafayette could make out the hands of its moon-faced clock ticking toward three, thought. 'I do hope _Grand-mère_ received the telegram regarding our arrival.’ His brow twisted and knotted, ‘ _qu’elle_ if’n she did not, and there is nobody is here to fetch us.’ He scanned the line of omnibuses. “well, if’n not, I will hire _une_ of those to take us to her _maison_.'

Katherine tugged on his arm, pointing to their fellow passengers massed on the lower deck like frightened cattle.

He nodded, “ _Oui,_ we shall wait a bit…let the herd thin some."

Her face scrunching unbecomingly, Joséphine stared with hot jealousy at those taking their leave of the Mississippi. ‘I want off this boat.’ She thought, shifting in her spot, hating the binding feeling of her corset. ‘This entire trip has been nigh unbearable. I ain’t ever felt so caged.’ She turned Lafayette’s hat in her hand, thinking, ‘even more than wantin’ to be free of this damnable river; I want to be free of Lafayette Henri. _Jésus a pleuré_ , he ain’t allowed me to take a step without his strict, hateful ass right by my side.’ 

With this thought, Joséphine slanted her eyes spitefully at him, as had become her habit. Surprisingly, she felt pity well up, ‘ _M’ Frère_ looks done in, like a horse that is ready to drop.' Tilting her head, she studied him, 'he looks older, too.’

Feeling her eyes on him, Lafayette growled. “Do not start with _moi_. I have the tiniest bit of patience left, and Jo, I sincerely advise you to not go spendin’ it all at once.”

Her anger for him returned in a flash, and gripping tight of his hat brim, she toyed with tossing it in the river.

“ _Oncle_ look!” Michaël hollered, lurching forward, his full weight slamming against his Uncle’s neck.

A spasm of pain shot down Lafayette’s back and he, yelped, “Mikey!” butting his head against the boy, urging him back onto his shoulders.

Michaël continued hollering, “See the funny people.” His small hand jabbed toward a musical troupe comprised of harlequins in face-paint performing acrobatics.

At the small hand, darting to-and-fro, Lafayette’s temper flared, his voice dropping darkly, “Ain’t you supposed to be holdin' on with both hands?”

“ _Très désolé,_ ” Michaël whimpered, latching back hold of the collar.

Tapping Lafayette’s arm, Kathrine asked, “Shall we depart?”

He nodded.

“I ain’t being left in charge of this," Joséphine said, shoving Lafayette’s hat at him. "If’n it gets crushed, you will have something else to hold against me.”

His mouth shifted to a sneer, and hearing Father’s words, _‘it is disgustin’ to fight with a lady,’_ he inhaled, counted to ten, and exhaled as had become his custom over the past five-hundred-miles. Not bothering to meet her eyes, he bent his knees, lowering his nephew. “Mikey, you go on and wear it.”

Michaël’s face split into a wide grin. “Look at _moi_ , _Mère_.”

“ _Mon_ Michaël, you look so _très_ handsome,” Katharine patted his leg. “Be a _bonne garçon;_ do not be fiddlin’ with it; we do not want it to escape from you.”

Michaël gave his Mother a quick acknowledging nod, a mannerism he had picked up these past weeks from his Uncle.

Back in Missouri, people described Lafayette Crowe as jovial, talkative, witty, even flirtatious. Yet, new facets of his personality emerged on their voyage. He became sober, tight-lipped, and brisk. It had not taken long for his sisters to understand that he preferred conveying his wishes and concerns through facial expressions and jerks of his head in public. Really, in no time at all, they became proficient in reading his new communication style, such as a curt nod to confirm an action. However, if a slight smile was present, he was affirming them. Moreover, it was not long before Michaël had begun imitating his Uncle.

“Oh, Lafe...wearing your hat, there ain’t a soul who would not believe, right off, that he is not yours.” Katharine said, shuddering under her real thoughts, 'it should be Archie carryin’ our _fils,_ not _m' petit frère_.'

Taking her hand, Lafayette gave her a soft, wide-eyed look, kissing her temple.

“I am fine, Lafe, just fine.” She responded, too brusquely. “You, on the other hand, are quite disheveled. Josie, _s_[ _'il vous plaît_](http://www.travlang.com/languages/french/Sil_vous_plait.au), straightens his coat where Michaël has it all bunched. And, why Lafe, must I unceasingly remind you of your collar?" Katharine asked, her lips thinning with irritation. "I cannot grasp why you insist on tugging it undone when you altogether know it is improper to show so much flesh.”

Having straightened his frock coat, Joséphine snickered, knocking his hands out of the way, “Hold off, I will get 'em for you.” Securing the top button, she murmured. “It is pretty terrible havin’ to be respectable...ain’t it?” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, hoping to see a tiny sign that her brother, her bestest pal, was still in there, instead of this constant frigid farce of cordiality he exuded.

Yet, as had also become his custom, Lafayette stared directly over the top of her head, ignoring all she said, and when he felt her finish, he at once moved away, “better Katharine?”

His elder sister answered distractedly, “much,” while searching about them, a small, puckered frown taking residence on her face. “Do you see Margie?”

Lafayette’s smile expanded, his dimples taking over, and crow’s feet appearing about his eyes.

Reading mischief loud and clear, something she had not seen in him since, possibly, breakfast the morning of the picnic, Katharine narrowed her eyes. “ _Qu’elle_ do you know?”

“Only that Margie was most likely first off the steamer.”

“ _Qu’elle_? I do not understand Margie has never been misbehaved.”

“She ain’t misbehavin’," Bold arrogance filled out Lafayette smile; “I presented Margie a pocket full of banknotes along with her _liberté_ papers.”

Joséphine’s brows furrowed.

Katharine's mouth opened and closed as if she had forgotten how to speak.

“Y'all should see your faces,” he choked out through his laughter, then composing himself, he winked at them. “Here is something for each of you to put in your hat. Taddy and I utterly loathe being slave owners. Thusly, _m’_ first step in _m’_ _nouveau_ life was to free _mon_ self of the terrible title.” He chortled happily, “You see, in _une_ fell swoop, I freed Margie and _mon_ self both.”

“Lafayette, you should have--” Katharine began, but he cut her off.

“Rein in! I respect you as _m’_ elder. Still, there ain't a word which will alter _m’_ thinkin’. I will hire you a servant. However, I am done ownin’ another person. I shall _jamais_ do so again. So, unless you wish to waste your breath, I suggest you leave this be."

Katharine’s face tightened.

At her irritation, Lafayette tried to shut down his smile but could not and giving up altogether, he blatantly laughed, "Come _Sœurs;_ let us disembark to meet this _nouveau_ life Joséphine has chosen for us.”

As if he had pinched her, Joséphine squeaked, "That is not fair!”

Arching an eyebrow, he laughed louder; this time, it sounded a touch caustic as he walked off, leaving Joséphine flustered and Katharine confused.

Stepping on land, his legs wobbled, and before he felt stable, they were rushed by street vendors offering confections, wine, gaudily colored birds, perfumes, fans, tobacco, beads, and more fancies than could be kept track of. To each, Lafayette responded, “ _Merci_ , _non,_ ” pressing through the crowd; he turned with a smile and a brisk nod.

Answering his query, Joséphine yipped, “we are fine,” her eyes alight with excitement.

Pushing on toward the St. Louis Cathedral, he thought. 'I will place 'em in the safekeepin’ of the _Curé_ while I hire a crew to haul the trunks to _Grand-mères._ ' Just as his decision was made, he heard his name.

Pivoting, he spied a tall, whipcord-thin woman with skin practically as light as his own, waving wildly, “Here, _Monsieur_ Crowe. Over here, _M._ Crowe.” 

Recognizing her as Odette, his _Grand_ - _mère’s_ head house slave, he strode toward her, and from her tightly braided hair to the hem of her bright-colored skirt, she was the image of confident competence. ‘ _Par Dieu_ , if’n Odette does not look exactly as she did last, I saw her.' He thought, laughter rolling inside him, 'I do not believe seein’ any person has ever brought _moi_ such relief, I can hand a share of _qu’elle_ has been _m’_ daily chore.' Shifting Michaël from his shoulders to his hip and replacing his hat on his head, he said, “ _Bonjour,_ Odette, it is mighty fine to see you.”

“ _M._ Lafayette, seein' _vous_ brings _moi_ great joy. I knew _vous_ the moment I laid eyes on _vous_. Seein’ _vous_ takes _moi_ right back to when I was young, and _M._ Begnoir was still with us.”

“ _Merci,_ ” Lafayette replied, not sure how he felt about the comparison.

“Who be this _garçon_?”

“This is _m’_ _neveu_ ,” Lafayette replied, giving Michaël a jiggle, hoping he would use the manners Katharine had been plying into him.

“ _Bonjour_ , I am Michaël Archibald Waverly,” Michaël said proudly, holding his hand out, “I am pleased to meet you.”

“ _Mon_ goodness, what a proper _Monsieur,_ ” Odette stated, curtsying before taking his hand. “I am your _Grand-grand-mère’s_ Odette. I, too, am pleased to meet _vous_.” Bowing her head, she released Michaël’s hand, turning to the ladies. “ _Madame_ Katharine, it has been far too long. _Mon Maîtresse_ has been eagerly awaitin' your arrival.”

“As have I, and I am so pleased to be here,” Katharine said, meaning every word, for it had been a long, arduous voyage, specifically, with Lafayette and Joséphine’s endless sniping at one another.

Odette then took an appraisal of Joséphine, and when she spoke, her voice held a curt level of disapproval that even Katharine had never attained. “ _Vous_ surely has grown, Mademoiselle Joséphine.” She nodded, raising her chin. “Your _Père_ done sent a telegram, which said _vous_ is to be registered at Ursuline Academy. He has hopes the Ursuline’s will be able to cultivate _vous_ where he has failed.” A pinched look of disapproval filled Odette’s face, “Mmm Hmm, _Mon Maîtresse_ forthwith procured _vous_ a placement.”

Joséphine’s mouth unhinged itself, ‘Classes with the Nuns? No!’ She frantically thought, turning to her brother. 'Surely, he will put a halt to this.' Yet, one glimpse at his amused expression, and she knew she would be attending.

“I will take charge of _M._ Michaël,” Odette said.

Handing him over, with a smile, Lafayette replied, “ _Merci beaucoup._ ”

 _“_ Them men over there,” Odette pointed to a freight wagon with her chin.

Lafayette nodded.

“I commissioned them to retrieve your belongings home. Come along, _chéries,_ we shall wait on the Cathedral steps for _Maître_ Lafe’s return.”

Lafayette cringed down to his toes when Odette, casually, bequeathed the title ‘Master’ right back on him.


	33. Chapter THIRTY

Chapter Thirty

Lafayette had relished the concept of not owning slaves. Then, with one word, Odette had put him right back in the harness. ‘Well, it does not matter.’ He told himself, ‘I am not her owner. She is _Grand-mère’s_ property, not mine.’

Truth was he was only quibbling to make himself feel better, for no matter what he said, he also knew he would be living within a household of slaves.

‘Damn our disgustin’ institution; it appears the only way I am to escape it would be to move up North.’ Sighing heavily, he shifted his attention to the laborers he sat alongside on the freight wagon and was startled to see they were all white men.

The entire collection was hunched over, hiding under low-slung mechanic’s hats, and their clothing had the thin, raggedness of prolonged use. The one closest to him was smaller than the rest, and Lafayette felt sure when he stood, he would be shorter than Thaddeus. The knuckles of the man’s hands were decorated with fresh scabs, and overall, there was something unsaid about him, which made Lafayette curious. Although, before he could consider much more, the flatbed jolted to a halt before a row of steamers, and the driver was asking, _“Monsieur_ , this be the one?”

“ _Oui,_ ” Lafayette responded, stepping down from the wagon and walking to a weathered, old man he recognized as one of their steamer’s stewards. The man’s curled hands shook when he took Lafayette’s travel papers, a rapid glance through, and he had the trunks being pulled from stowage. As they began to arrive, the freight driver bellowed, “Get your asses to collectin’ and do it faster than the last load, ya filthy fuckin’ Micks.”

At the driver’s coarse words, Lafayette spun, catching the driver in the act of kicking one of the Irishmen as he scurried by. Anger simmered up in Lafayette, and he turned a stern eye on the driver. Upon the man’s head sat an elegant black hat, with a scarlet band; the rest of his clothes looking as unkempt as the heavy years that hung on the man; nonetheless, he had the look of still being brutally strong.

Throwing out a couple more curses, the driver leaned his back against the rump of the rear mule and began cutting slices from a block of cheese he had pulled from his pocket. Yet, each time the men carried a trunk to the wagon, he would set to cussing them for everything from their worthiness to their heritage.

The whole affair twisted Lafayette on edge as there was little, he detested more than a bully, and stepping in, he knew it would do little good for all involved.

Of all the immigrants swarming to suckle of America’s milk and honey dream, the Irish were the most miserable runt on the tit. There was no city where they had not settled, and there was also no locality that had given them a fair chance. In New Orleans, so many famine ships had ported that it had become more frugal to hire a penny-a-day Irish than to clothe and feed a slave, or worse, risk a skilled slave to a dangerous endeavors. Not when there was an abundance of Irish to be made use of, and if one of them died, it was no skin off a man’s wallet.

For this reason alone, keeping a full stable of slaves had become a needless expense. Owners even allowed their slaves to hire themselves out; naturally, they had to present a commission of their earnings back to their Masters. Still, given time, they were buying their freedom. So ironically, in New Orleans, positioned on the southern coastline of the Deep South, a Freeman of Color had higher ranking and worth than a white man of Ireland.

‘If’n I heft a single trunk; I am positive the lot of ’em will lose their day’s pay.’ Lafayette thought, guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders as the underfed men struggled beneath the opulent weight of his family’s baggage, and he loathingly stared at the blustering driver until he could finally holler, “That is all of 'em.”

At his words, the Irishmen scrambled onto the flatbed and passing the driver, without acknowledging him, Lafayette asked, “Were you informed of the delivery address?”

“ _Oui,_ ya slave, tolds _moi_."

Lafayette's gut cringed up so hard; it became a solid knot in his rib cage

"She said we would be paid once it is all unloaded at the Bueford house over on Royal. Right fine area, that is,” the driver said, disdainfully eyeing Lafayette, from his western hat to his tall, scuffed, riding boots.

Ignoring the look, Lafayette nodded to the Irishmen, sweating freely in the crisp air, “And, their pay?”

“I toss ’em crumbs when the sun goes down.”

Lafayette's jaw tightened, his dimple dipping rapidly as he swung aboard the wagon, snapping, “Drop _moi_ at the Cathedral.”

With sham politeness, the driver replied, “As you say, _Monsieur_.”

At the corner of _rue de_ St. Anne and Chartres, Lafayette hopped off. However, before taking his leave, he moved down the line of men, thanking them while dropping coins into their hands. His generosity earned him a look of disgust from the driver, and Lafayette thought, ‘He should damn-well be pleased I have enough decorum not drag ‘em down to the dirt where he belongs.’

Unlike the other men who mumbled appreciation without raising their eyes, when Lafayette reached the one, who had proven to be shorter than his brother, the man peered brazenly into Lafayette’s face. The purple shiner encircling one of his deep-set dark blue eyes was almost comical compared to his exuberant, genuine smile.

Flashing back a smile, every bit as authentic, Lafayette offered his hand, and as they shook, he thought, ‘ _Jésus a pleuré_ , we are within a stone's throw of the same age.’ Then, like he would any other day, he introduced himself, asking, “ _Qu’elle_ is your _nom…_ name, _Monsieur_?”

In a lyrical, mellow tenor, the little man replied, “Connor, Sir, Connor Shelly.”

“I greatly appreciate your aid, _Monsieur_ Shelly,” Lafayette answered, releasing Connor’s hand. “I do hope your day is _bonne_.”

“You also, Mister Crowe, and welcome to the splendid, gaudy Crescent City.”

“ _Merci beaucoup.”_

As the wagon drove away, Michaël ran over, taking hold of his Uncle’s hand.

“ _Vous_ payin' them wharf hands were uncalled for as _m’ Maîtresse_ will see their foreman paid. They are his men to see too.” Odette said, glancing around, fearful her young Master might have been seen fraternizing with men well beneath him.

“I did not read ‘em as being much of the sharin’ type.”

“Hmm,” her eyes narrowed. “Your coin supposes _vous_ spend it as _vous_ wish. Going forward, _vous_ might want to reflect a touch more before actin’. I am also thinkin’ _vous_ should speak with _m' Maîtresse_ about the Irish and--”

Turning his back on Odette, Lafayette spoke to Katharine, “ready to introduce us to the _Curé?_ ” While thinking, 'Mams fully has the right to ramrod _moi,_ but there ain't _non_ fuckin’ way I am goin’ let Odette do so.'

Seeing the left dimple starting to flicker, Katharine peered calmly into Lafayette’s face, giving his arm a solid squeeze before stooping to straighten her son’s clothing, “we are goin’ into _Dieu’s maison_. You must be on your bestest behavior.”

“ _Oui,_ _Mère._ ”

“ _Madame_ Katharine, I will await _vous_ there,” Odette said, pointing to a magnolia tree growing near the banquette. Although, when the Crowes headed for the Cathedral, Odette’s black eyes snaked after Lafayette. ‘That _garçon_ might be challenging to control. I did not care _une_ bit for the way he dismissed _moi,_ and—'

Odette’s thoughts were interrupted by Katharine turning back, “we shall not be long as I am anxious to see _Grand-mère_.” Removing her rosary from her reticule, Katharine took hold of Michaël's hand, leading him up the two banquette steps to the Cathedral. Not seeing her sibling's rosaries, she pursed her lips, giving her beads a meaningful shake.

A prickle of sweat ran down Lafayette’s spine, “Uhm…I...do not believe I brought mine.”

“Lafayette Henri Begnoir!” she hissed, ready to put him in his place. Except, the swift, deep blush reddening his face tripped her up, but seeing Joséphine fidgeting in his shadow, she said, “Not you too?” Then faster than a whip snake, Katharine snagged hold of Josephine, hustling both her and Michaël inside, so swiftly, the long streamers of her widow’s cap flared wildly after them.

Rubbing at an eye, Lafayette hung back long enough to remain clear of the frigid anger flowing from his elder sister. When he did follow, he was past the vestibule with one boot upon the marble tiles of the sanctuary when Odette, in a tone of clear-cut disapproval, called his name.

Tired and cranky, he spun about barking, “ _Qu’elle_?”

She shook her head.

Dragging his self to where she stood, it came to him; ' _m'_ rosary is hooked on _m’_ headboard post in _m’ chambre_ back home.’ Then not for the first time, he wished that was where he was.

“ _Merci_ for walkin' over here like a true _monsieur._ It is _mal_ manners to raise _une’s_ voice in public. I feel it is right for _vous_ to know _m' Maîtresse_ deems _mal_ manners far below Begnoir-Bueford standards.” Then reaching up, she tore the black hat from his head, saying with icy politeness. “As I am quite certain, she would feel the same about wearin' a hat in _Dieu’s maison_. I shall hold on to this for _vous,_ _Maître_ Lafe.”

Lafayette’s face became rigid. Except for his pulsing left dimple, and to keep his thoughts, more importantly, his words to himself; he turned on his heel, not sure if he was more infuriated with her or himself, until she deftly tipped the scales in his favor.

“ _Maître_ Lafe, _excusez-moi,_ but _vous_ should also express your adherence to the Church of Rome by pausin' at the font, _this time_.”

Dipping his fingertips in the sacred water, he made the sign of the cross, murmuring, “in the name of the Father, the Son, and the holy spirit, Amen.” Once done, he ducked into the sanctuary, exhaling his relief. ‘I am just fortunate, Mams ain’t here.’ He felt of his ears, ‘ain’t _non_ possibility I would have gotten off so easy. Still, I oughta be given leeway; it has been ages since I been in a Cathedral.’

Being a Catholic in Missouri set the Crowes apart from their neighbors, as most of the churches were Baptist with a sprinkling of Lutherans. All that kept him from being an irreparable sinner was evening prayers at Sienna. Save during _famille_ prayers, the correct phrases and responses would roll from Lafayette unbidden as his mind drifted freely.

Consequently, his next hour with the _Curé,_ _Père_ Croix, he found himself, repeatedly, searching for the correct words and actions. Finally, after confession, followed by a lengthy penance, his absolved soul was allowed to exit the cool inferno of the Cathedral.

Overjoyed to be free of the pungent incense, he took a deep breath of the salty air, thinking. ‘ _Feu_ _de l'enfer_ , I best be for studyin’ _m’_ catechisms, if’n I want to keep from lookin’ a fool.’

Her eyes sparkling with mischief, Josephine waltzed by, swishing the hem of her skirt his way. “Why _Grand Frère,_ you survived confession, I see.”

His brows rushed together, and rather than rising to her bait, he hurried to Katharine, offering his arm.

Her dark, frowning eyes crawled over him. “Our _Mère_ would be mortified at _qu’elle_ heathens the pair of you are. I cannot even grasp the words to express how I felt being forced to request rosaries for you _duex.”_ She shook her head, making a distressed sound, and took his arm, “Well, at least, I should be content that was the only transgression either of you made.”

“ _Mes excuses_ , Katharine, honestly _mes excuses,_ ” Lafayette replied, and when Odette passed him his hat, he noted her shrewd smile, knowing, for a time, she held the upper hand.


	34. Chapter THIRTY-ONE

Chapter Thirty-One

**Thursday 27 th October 1859**

Inching down the back stairs, Thaddeus licked his lips; his revolver case clutched in one hand and boots in the other. Pausing, he leaned against the closed kitchen door. Hearing only his blood pounding in his ears, he said a swift prayer and slipped inside. To his relief, the sun-drenched, comfortable room with its small daily dining area was empty, and he muttered, “ _Dieu_ Almighty, I have near about stolen _m’_ _liberté_.”

Slipping on his boots while eyeing the rubbish box by the back door, his mouth twisted into a wry grin, and placing his revolver case in the box, he hefted it, hoping the glass and tin did not clank. The last thing he wanted was to alert anyone, with his escape so near at hand.

As much as he loved her, Simone was pushing him to the brink. With each passing hour, his muscles had been balling up tighter until his desire for freedom had grown from a want to sheer necessity.

' _Pour l'amour de Dieu,_ I feel like a bronc ready to tear the fuckin' walls down,' he thought, opening the back door. 'If’n I do not get out; I sure as hell ain't goin’ to be able to fulfill _m’ promesse_ much longer.'

Once Simone had won the battle for Thaddeus to remain at Sienna, she had taken over his care from head-to-foot. Her cure included banning tobacco, alcohol, and being out of bed for any longer than she felt pertinent. Furthermore, she had forbidden bleeding and any modern medicines when the Doctor came to visit.

Honestly, Thaddeus had no grounds to complain, for Simone’s methods had brought him back to full health. Yet, freedom continued to elude him as she refused to loosen her hold. If a word were said of lessening his restrictions, she would rage in French how he would be done and dust if not for her. As a consequence, Thaddeus’ French had significantly improved, as it was the only language, she would give ear to once riled. Still, it did not matter, for if his arguments gained him any headway, she would set to weeping.

Simone’s tears destroyed him, and before he knew it, he would find himself back in bed. Finally, discouraged beyond words, he had turned to father, a man he never asked anything of, to intercede on his behalf. Antonio's answer had been, _'Tad, I say you may do as you wish. Although, hold in mind, what I say matters little, for from what I hear, y'all understand each other better than I ever will.’_

Thinking on this, Thaddeus paused on the back step, 'Maybe, I oughta go back to _m’ chambre_ ,’ and then a spot deep inside of him cracked. ‘ ** _Je m’en fous._** I am done being coddled. Ain’t a reason _une_ ; I should feel _mal_ ‘bout being outside.’

Despite his thoughts, he eased away from the house, knowing if she found him, one way or another, he would be right back in bed.

Walking through the long tables, dotting the rear brick patio of Sienna's outdoor kitchen, he told himself, 'Break off feelin' fuckin' guilty. _Par Dieu,_ you ain't goin' to get any healthier than you are. Sides, she cannot keep _moi_ tied to her like some _imbécile_ porch _bébé_ for rest of _m’_ life.’

Stepping into the courtyard, he turned his face up to the sky. “ _Mon Dieu,_ this feels _bonne._ " Leaning back against a sun-warmed column, he enjoyed the warmth, inhaling the robust autumn air until a smile filled his face. Stepping away, he spun in a circle, laughing softly, " _Feu de l’enfer_ , it feels fuckin’ _bonne_ to be free."

“Where you goin'?”

The sudden question startled Thaddeus so badly, he dropped the box, and the rubbish clattered about his boots like broken wind chimes. “ _Jésus a pleuré_! Why the hell you always sneakin' up on _moi_?” He grouched at his twin, standing mere inches from him.

Eudora's face went rigidly somber, “I was not sneakin'.”

“Ha!”

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline, “I was not.”

“I ain't believin' you,” he grumbled, scooping his intended targets back into the box, all the while casting wary glances at the house.

Crossing her arms behind her back, Eudora leaned forward, catching his eye, “You spooked 'cause you is the _une_ sneakin’.”

Thaddeus' chin jutted out, “Thunderation and brimstone, Dora, quit rippin' _moi_.” Standing, he hitched the box onto his hip, “And, I ain’t sneakin'.'

She put her hands on the lip of the box, stepping in front of him, " _Qu’elle_ is you doin' then?"

He tried to walk about her, but she held fast. "I am goin' to do some target practice, if’n you must know, Miss Busybody."

A pair of deep lines appeared between her eyebrows. "Do not be callin' _moi_ names. I been watchin' you since you left your room and you been sneakin’."

“I tell you, I...” He scowled, “Hell with it. Let go!” He shook the box and wrinkling her nose; she held tight. “ _Zut_ , I ain’t standin’ here arguin' with you.”

“Mams says you ain’t to go nowheres.”

“Mams says!" He unhooked her fingers from the box, his voice rising. "Mams says. _Feu de l’enfer_ , all I hear, all live long day is, Mams says.”

“As do I,” came a crisp reply from behind them.

Thaddeus' eyes darted beyond Eudora to where Marie stood, still within the covered part of the patio, with her hands resting upon her narrow hips.

“Mister Taddy, Miss Simone done told me 'bout you." Marie looked pointedly to the backdoor. "You is to be inside."

His voice took on a petulant, spoiled note, "Well, damnation. You think I do not know that?" And, with a loud snort, turned to walk away.

“Mister Taddy, you ain’t to be outside tirin’ yourself out.”

Keeping on, he grumbled, “ _Doux Jésus,_ ” and raising his voice, he belligerently snarled. “I ain't goin' to tire myself out and _feu de l’enfer_ , it does not matter, because ain’t neither of you can stop _moi_ anyways.”

“You be correct about that," Marie answered with a self-satisfied knowing smile. "However, I can holler for Miss Simone.”

“Me too, I can holler, too,” Eudora added, grinning because she saw Marie was. “And I can holler real loud, too.”

Thaddeus’ chin dropped to his chest. Inhaling, he swung around. When he raised his face, he wore his crooked grin and asked in a smooth purr. “Come now, _filles_ ; you ain’t goin' to treat _moi_ so terribly, are you?” He knew convincing Eudora was simple. Marie, she was another matter.

Setting the box down, he walked toward her, grit crunching beneath his boots. “ _Chère,_ you ain't _vraiment_ goin' to call the Patroller on _moi_?” he asked, his grin becoming the one the McIntosh gals always squealed over, claiming it withered their wills, making them feel all fluttery and silly. “Surely not, _Chère_?”

Color rose in Marie’s face, and with a trembling hand, she covered her smile, “Do not be for charmin’ me, Mister Taddy. It ain’t workin’ this time.”

Tilting his head to the side, he kept playing out the grin until his eyes were gleaming with wickedness.

Pulling up her apron, Marie hid behind it, giggling.

“Ah, _Chère_ _...s’il vous plaît,_ ” he cooed, taking hold of her hand, and kissing its back. " _S’il vous plaît._ "

Shaking her head, she whispered, “You are _bad_ , Mister Taddy.”

“What if’n I go with 'em?” Eudora piped in, switching sides. “I could watch 'em.”

Thaddeus held onto his smile while wanting to scowl at his twin. However, seeing hesitation flare in Marie’s face, he chose to play the hand his sister dealt him. “Why Dora, if’n that ain’t a damn-fine notion, with you taggin’ along, all will know I ain’t up to _much_ mischief. Ain’t that so, _Chère_?"

“I do not know,” Marie answered, flicking her eyes to the kitchen door. “Miss Simone will be beside herself when she finds you missin'.”

“Suppose so.”

Studying his face, she flung her free hand out, dropping the apron hem, “Oh for heaven’s sake, get out of my sight and do not be tellin' Miss Simone we spoke. Please do not be tellin' her.”

"Why would I ever do that?" He responded, kissing her hand once more before releasing her. " _Merci beaucoup, Chère,_ " and with a hushed cheer, he called, “If’n you are comin' Dora, come on.” Snatching up the box, he hightailed it down the worn, deep rutted path that wound past the slave cottages.

What struck him was the number of boarded-up cottages, 'Hot damn!’ He thought, ‘a lot of 'em is empty. I had not realized how many wondered off durin’ the summer. Appears Father is goin’ to be requirin’ to hire laborers. Hmmm, maybe, all mine and Lafe's talk against _malheureux_ slavery is effectin’ the Ol’ Man.

About then, he came alongside a large garden patch, where two slaves were picking gourds, and his cheer dimmed, as even these few bothered him. Still, he cordially raised a hand, calling, "Hello, Joseph, William."

They paused at their work.

"Well, Good Day, Mister Taddy."

“Right fine to see you up and ‘bout, Mister Taddy.”

“ _Merci beaucoup,”_ he replied, rubbing at his eyebrow, thinking, ‘I just do not see any damn difference ‘tween them and _moi_. They ain’t brutal, dim-witted, or any of the other fuckin’ backstabbin’ terms I have heard used. Hell, if’n I had _m’_ way, I would hand out _liberté_ papers this _très_ day.'

Veering from the path into a cluster of tall, thin cottonwoods, he hurried along, putting more distance between himself and the house. Except, the waxy, yellow leaves beneath his boots felt slick, and he decided it might be best to slow his pace. Gazing up at the mostly bare trees squeaking above him, he thought, ‘Where did summer go?’ Then with a shrug, he jumped into the double-line of wheel ruts, created by years of hauling crops in from the fields.

Walking along in a rut, he began whistling. After whistling the same tune through twice and still not being able to recall its name, he hollered, “Hey, Sis, what song is that?” Getting no answer, he turned around, “Sis?”

He spotted her chest high in a thick patch of sumac, her hair glistening in the sunshine like the barrel of a freshly oiled shotgun. The scarlet sumac leaves glittering, just as brilliantly, as they dipped and twirled, waving jubilantly in the breeze. Eudora had not answered because she was intently stripping limb after berry-laden limb from the tall plants.

Placing the box on the ground, Thaddeus smiled, dropping beside it, and flopping back in the dry, brittle grass. Until, after a bit, she came skipping his way, and he sat up, eyeing the bouquet of willowy limbs bouncing over her shoulder. “Sumac lemonade?”

“Mmm-hmm,” She twirled, her black hair and the red limbs streaking after her, “it sure is a fine day, and you were whistling, _Angelina Baker_.”

“Oh...” He flashed his chipped tooth grin, “did not think you heard _moi_ ask.”

“I did.” She peered down at him, “We stoppin’ here?”

“Nope,” he replied, climbing to his feet, and swinging the box onto his shoulder.

“Where?”

Peering back at the Great House’s limestone chimneys, towering above the young grove of trees, he answered. “Far enough, we will be out of range of Sienna.”

The fresh rosy color drained from Eudora's cheeks, “We ain’t supposed to leave Sienna.”

“I meant the _maison,_ not the _propriété_.” He shook his head, continuing to follow the wagon rut.

“Oh.” She mouthed, staring at the still visible pieces of the stone fortress they called home. Then noticing she was being left behind, she pushed past her feelings of discomfort and ran after him, catching him just as he slipped down a trail into a thick stand of Pin Oaks.

He began whistling, and ten minutes of steady walking brought them to a clearing filled with tall brown seed grass.

"Taddy…” Eudora’s voice warbled, “I cannot see the _maison_ _non_ more." She cast furtive glances over her shoulder, avoiding stepping on the dark claw-like shadows the oak trees were casting. “Taddy,” her voice was an octave higher, "I cannot see the _maison_. Are we there yet?"

“Just ‘bout.” Lines deepened around his eyes. “When did you get so all-fired, damn worried about venturin’ out?”

“Since Mams told _moi_ , people is being made dead when they wander off.”

Skidding to a halt, he turned about, seeing her fear. ‘Why in hell would Mams tell ‘er that?’ Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it, pulling her close. “We ain’t got much further. Moreover, ain’t I right here with you?”

She nodded.

"Would I let anything happen to you?"

She shook her head.

Wrapping his arm about her shoulder, he tucked her in along his ribs, "then do not be such a damn goose."

Slipping her arm about his waist, she giggled, snuggling into him, and whispered, "I am not a goose."

Poking her in the ribs, he made her squawk, "Just proved you are."

She giggled, " _Je t'aime."_

Hugging her tighter, he replied, "right back at you, Sis.”


	35. Chapter THIRTY-TWO

Chapter Thirty-Two

Walking into an open meadow, Thaddeus took hold of Eudora's offhand pirouetting her, in a fast twirl away from him. "We are here."

She came to a stop before a giant, dead cottonwood tree. Stroking the soft spot at the base of her throat, she studied the black, scarred tree laying in the grass. 'It was struck by lightning,' she thought. Her green eyes shifting to the dry, rustling grass, to the dead tree, to the leafless, skeletal trees encircling them, then to the patch of blue sky above. The uneasy feeling that haunted her earlier returned, and the sumac branches slipped from her hand.

Catching the fluttery movement, Thaddeus peered her way, “You all right?”

She nodded.

He returned to placing bottles and cans, from the rubbish box, along the cottonwood trunk, and when he finished, he looked her way again. “Dora?”

Seeing pinched worry about his eyes, she answered, "I am fine."

His mouth pulled to the side, but he took up the empty box, tucking the teakwood revolver case under his arm, and began searching for his marker.

When Eudora took a seat beside him, he grinned, flicking both the teakwood case's brass latch and lid open, in one motion, revealing his six-shot revolver along with five additional cylinders, a shot mould, powder flask, grease, a tin of caps and a brass capper.

“I wondered where your Remington was. I could not figure out how you were goin’ to shoot’em…” she pointed back to the targets glinting like mirrors along the log, “…with an empty holster.”

Thaddeus chuckled.

She bumped against him.

Still chuckling, he crossed his legs, angling the revolver’s barrel down and away from them. Prying his black powder flask from its cubbyhole, he placed his index finger over the flask’s nipple, and turning it upside down, released a measure of powder into an empty cylinder chamber.

“Dig _moi_ a ball out of the leather pouch.”

When she picked up the soft, well-worn shot bag, the metal balls tapped together, “They sound like marbles,” she said, removing a lead shot, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger; she held it up. “Looks kinda like a marble, too.”

“That it does,” he said with a wink, plucking the ball from her fingers and placing it in the chamber he had filled with black powder. Levering the ramrod, he packed the round.

As he continued loading, Eudora edged ever closer, intently studying his actions, until at last, she was leaning against him. Turning, he kissed her on the cheek, “You are too close.”

Scootching back, her eyes never left him as he removed the cylinder pin and slid the loaded cylinder out onto his palm. Setting it on the wood box, he picked up a second cylinder, fitting it on the base pin, and as he duplicated the loading steps, Eudora rocked back and forth, humming and handing him shot balls. Until, at length, five cylinders stood loaded in a neat row on top of the box.

“Taddy, how come only _une_ is so pretty?”

“Hmm…” he replied, concentrating on smearing grease on each load.

“Pretty?” She asked, reaching for a cylinder, “how come this _une_ is silver and pretty?”

Slapping her hand away, he snapped, “ _Non!_ They are loaded.”

She frowned at him.

He snorted, continuing to rub grease across loads.

“Why are the others not silver?”

He did not answer.

Her eyes narrowed, “Why are the others not silver?” she demanded, this time jabbing him in the shoulder.

He looked up, disoriented, “ _Qu’elle_? Oh, that _une_ came with the Remington.”

“They all look like twins, except that _une_. Why is it so pretty?”

His left eyebrow dropped low, a slight sneer curling his lip.

“Do not look at _moi_ that way," she snarled, her nostrils flaring. "You rightly know, I loathe when you do that.”

“Fine,” he replied, and drawing out his words with a distinct hint of sarcasm, he said, “that _une_ looks different ‘cause it came with the damn Remington.”

Quick as a jackrabbit, she punched him in the arm, “Break off sayin' the same thing. You ain’t tellin' _moi_ nothin’.”

A small, playful giggle exploded from him, and she punched him two more times.

“All right, all right, hold off,” he said, wiping his hand clean on a rag and taking up the nickel-plated cylinder; he turned it so she could see the twisted vine etchings decorating its frame. Winking at her, he then slid it onto his revolver and laid it across his palm. “This is an 1858, .44 caliber, six-shot revolver made by Remington Arms.”

She nodded, studying the long-barreled, silver Remington covered in the same twisted vine etchings as the cylinder she had been asking about, and here-and-there she spotted the letters, TRC.

“Is those your initials?”

Her question brought a raw unspoken hurt to her twin’s eyes, “Father had ‘em put there.”

Never had Antonio laid blame on either twin. Then again, he did not have to, at least, as far as Thaddeus was concerned. For him, Father displayed his thoughts openly enough, for like clockwork, come mid-February, if home, he would desert Sienna. On the twelfth of March, not once was he present to celebrate their birthday, the same day their mother had left this world.

Furthermore, Thaddeus’ believed their father blamed him alone, as he consistently demanded more of him, and nothing he did was ever satisfactory. Not so, with his twin. Truth be told, Father doted on Eudora, often telling her, _‘it is uncanny how much you resemble your Mère.’_ Of course, in the same breath, he would also say, ‘ _If’n only you did not have them eyes, then you would be a mirror image of her, if’n not for them eyes.’_ If Thaddeus were near when he said this, Antonio would turn a vacant stare his way, and every single time he did, Thaddeus’ insides painfully, pinched up as it was Father, silently, saying, _‘and if’n not for you, she would still be here.’_

Turning the revolver in his hands, Thaddeus thought, ‘yep, this expensive gift, this specially ordered gift only proves _m’_ point and it does not matter if’n Lafe and the say it is a foolish notion; I know I am right.’ He rubbed a thumb across one of the initial sets; ‘cause Father never gave _moi_ a gift. Hell, not even an I love you, for fifteen fuckin’ years and then on our sixteenth, he is not only home, but up and acknowledges _moi_ with this custom-designed pistol.’

Eudora leaned closer, peering up into his face, with a small frown, “How did your initials get on the gun?”

“Father!”

“I heard you, but how?”

“Well, the gunsmith who created this pistol was an artist," Thaddeus answered, tracing one of the vines twisting away from his initials." He carved these etchings along with my initials into the nickel-platin’.”

She nodded.

“It makes _m’_ Remington unlike any other, and this ‘pretty’ cylinder is a part of his work." Peeking over at her, he asked, "answer your queries?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He was a damn fool to pay extra for a bunch of carvings.’ Thaddeus grunted, twirling the pistol, the walnut grip slapping back into his palm. “Does not matter none, means as little to _moi_ as I do to him.”

At the pain in his voice, a muscle twitched under Eudora’s right eye, and she wanted to hug him. But she knew when he was like this, he would brush her off. So, she only gave him a small smile and pointed at the four-matching gunmetal-blue cylinders standing in a row. “Fine, then where did you get them?”

“I bought 'em in Harrisonville,” he answered, setting the pistol down, he began the operation of capping the thirty cylinders.

“Why?”

Slanting an eye at her, he exhaled hard. “ _Feu de l’enfer_ , Dora, did you follow _moi_ out here to question _moi_ to damn death?”

“ _Non_.” Her eyes pinched, creasing her forehead into row upon row of deep lines, making her a mirror image of her twin. “So, why?”

“Tarnation Sis, I got 'em, so I can load a whole handful of damn shot at once. Before you ask, it is, so I do not have to break off practicin' to fuckin’ reload. Those _quatre_ ain’t nothin’ but _malheureux_ extras.”

“Oh." She grunted, placing her chin on her upraised knee, "so there ain’t anything special about 'em.”

“ _Non_ , they is just like any other ol’ cylinder out there.” Having finished the capping, he dropped his capper in his vest pocket along with the tin of caps. “Do not go touchin 'em. They are primed for firin' and might blow your fool hand off, if’n you mess with 'em.”

She glowered at him.

“I am serious.”

“I know you are.”

He snorted again and, in one fluid motion, stood, slid the Remington in his holster, and offered his hand to her. “Truce?”

She shrugged, allowing him to help her to her feet.

Grinning devilishly, he asked, “You ready for some noise?”

It was not her first time to watch target shooting. She liked the powerful sound of the revolvers, and the way they belched smoke, sometimes even fire, and giggles trailed from her as she ran a distance away.

Checking that she was a good way behind him, Thaddeus placed a foot on his marker rock. Resting his left hand on the butt of his revolver, he studied the drunkard line of targets and then turned his back to them. One long exhale, and he spun, lifting the pistol into his palm, thumbing the single action, and firing in one motion.

A can burst into the air.

Without pausing, he slammed the Remington back in its holster, turned his back to the targets, spun, drew, and fired. Each time he did, a tin can spun away into the air.

Squatting, Thaddeus removed the spent cylinder, placing it on the box. Then loading a new one, he tossed Eudora his crooked, chip-toothed grin before tucking and rolling away from his ammo stores. Before entirely coming out of the roll, he thumbed the hammer back, again and again, until his revolver clacked on empty chambers. Each of his shots smashing a bottle to smithereens, the glass sprinkling down like hard rain, and out of rounds, he leapt to his feet, sliding the Remington back in its holster.

“Dead on, Taddy,” Eudora cheered, clapping her hands. “Oh, you are much, much better than when I last watched you, Lafe, and Gabe.”

Biting the inside of his lip, Thaddeus tried to restrain a boastful smile. It had taken more hours than he reckoned to tabulate, to achieve the speed and accuracy he had just shown her. With the smile escaping, he waggled his eyebrows, asking, “Want to see what else I can do?”

Slipping a new cylinder on the Remington, he searched out an unscathed can, and with his crooked ‘watch this grin’ plastered across his face; he tossed the can into the air. Faster than a dragonfly’s wing, he drew, shooting the can before it hit the ground. Then with practiced ease, he continued firing, making the can dance in the air until he had spent all six rounds.

“Damnation, you are fast.” Eudora hollered and clamped a hand over her mouth, a pink blush rising to her face.

A loud belly laugh burst from Thaddeus.

“You will not tell anyone?” she asked, trying not to grin.

“Fuck, no.” He beamed back.

And, breaking into a smile that matched his, she ran to him. “Taddy, will you teach _moi_ to shoot like you?”

“ _Feu de l’enfer_ , not on _m’_ life!” he howled, pulling away. He sucked in his lips, kneeling to replace the used cylinder, feeling a burning tightness in his throat. ‘Why would she ask that? _Zut_ , everyone fuckin’ knows _qu’elle_ Father did when he caught _moi_ trainin’, Josie. It was like all the hate he had for _moi_ broke loose at once.’ Thaddeus felt of the slanted dip in the bridge of his nose, ‘He ain't ever beat any of _m’ frères_ the way he did _moi._ _Feu de l’enfer_ , if’n Gabe and Web had not pulled ‘em off, I ain’t so sure I would have made it. _’_ Swallowing hard, he stood his neck and face a florid red as and he wiped the pistol with a rag, thinking. 'Fuck, it were just another way of ‘em showin’ _moi_ , I ain't nothin’ more than a fuckin’ waste of blood to 'em.'

“Taddy?”

When he looked over, his twin was holding her arms out to him. Sniffing hard, he holstered the Remington and grabbing her, he spun them round and round until they tumbled to the ground, and stretching out in the dry, sweet grass with the rich scent of dirt under him, he began to feel more at ease.

" _Mes excuses,_ I should not have asked," she whispered, laying her head across his extended arm. "He lost his temper is all; he did not mean it."

Thaddeus chose not to respond.

“He does _amour_ you.”

Closing his eyes and tucking his other arm beneath his head, he choked back several bitter retorts.

“He does.”

Thaddeus barked, “Enough, Dora,” opening his green, green eyes to the bright blue sky.

A frown flickered across Eudora’s face, and she rolled, so she lay against his chest. “Thaddeus, why can you not let the past go?"

Hearing a different lilt in her voice, he took a breath, knowing her true self had just some out into the light. “I try to.”

She arched a brow at him.

Drawing his lower lip through his teeth, he muttered, “Times are, I wish I could simply drift away from here like them there clouds.”

Crossing her arms on his chest, she nestled her chin in her hands, her green eyes looking him over, until she finally said, “You do not mean that.”

Lifting his head, a frown furrowed about his eyes as he thought, ‘She is like seeing _mon_ self from another angle, how can we be so similar and so different?’ Dropping his head back, he softly answered. “I wish he would accept _moi_ for who I am. Not whoever it is, he wants _moi_ to be.”

“Perhaps, like _moi,_ he knows you can be exceptional.”

Thaddeus snorted, “Exceptional, _m’_ ass.”

When Eudora did not reply, he went back to watching the clouds rushing by and noticed a chill creeping in. “Hey, Sis, it will be dusk soon. We should head back.” Eudora remained silent and raising his head to see her; he found she was still staring at him. “Fine…how the hell am I exceptional?”

“I knew your curiosity would get you.” She answered, rolling off onto her elbow and flashing him a grin. “You, _m’ frère,_ are a leader just like Gabe, and sometimes, you are far wiser than Lafe. ‘Cept, you always do what they say, followin’ around in their shadows.” She tapped his chest. “Father needs you to learn to stand on your own feet, to make your own decisions…solid, strong decisions without their input. So, you can run Sienna.” She shook her head, “Do not speak…see neither of 'em wants this place. You ask ‘em, and they will tell you the same. They each got dreams that do not include Sienna.”

His brows drew upwards, bunching together in an expression others often misjudge as crushed feelings.

Eudora knew better. She knew he was considering her words.

As he laid there doing just that, a covey of birds shot into the sky, frightened by the sound of something substantial tearing through the underbrush. Rolling to a squat, Thaddeus ripped his revolver from the holster, “Get yourself fuckin' hidden!”


	36. Chapter THIRTY-THREE

Chapter Thirty-Three

Leaping to her feet, Eudora ran through the pile of sumac branches, a flurry of crimson leaves spinning into the air like droplets of blood.

Seeing them, Thaddeus could hear Mams loud as a shotgun saying, _‘people is being made dead when they wander off.’_ Breathing fast, he crouched low, feeling the weight of his Remington in his extended hand, his eyes flicking to the already cocked hammer. ‘I do not recall even pullin’ it.’

His pulse beat a staccato rhythm in his ears, and taking a breath, he urged himself to settle so that he would be ready for whatever leapt from the woods.

As she flew into the stand of Pin Oaks, it came to Eudora her twin was not following, and turning back, she cried. “Taddy!”

From the breaking brush and huffing snorts, Thaddeus knew, at least, one horse would be on top of him in the next few breathes.

“Taddy!!”

“ _Zut!_ Do as I said,” he hissed, risking a glance to see if she were minding, and as he did, a massive, muscled, black horse burst into the meadow.

Its rider yanked his hat from his head, hollering, “Taddy!” as the big black swerved, tearing dark gashes in the dust-colored grass.

Likewise, as the long, sandy-colored bangs fell obscuring the rider’s face, Thaddeus launched from his crouched position, having already identified the horse. “ _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ , Jackson! I damn near blew your fuckin' head off!”

Ignoring him, Jackson scanned the meadow. “I heard gunfire and feared the worst.” Replacing his hat, he swung down, “You alone?”

“Alone?” Thaddeus echoed, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Loosening the girth strap, Jackson threw a look back over his shoulder at Thaddeus, his voice an octave higher than his usual. “I heard gunfire.”

“I was target shootin'.” Thaddeus hooked a thumb toward the fallen tree. “I was curious if’n I had lost _m’_ damn edge after bein’ laid up so fuckin’ long." Shaking his head in disbelief, Thaddeus shouted, "it is only Jackson. Come on out.”

When Eudora’s pale face peeked from behind a tree, Jackson’s mouth fell open. Closing it, he licked his lips, “Dora’s here?”

Grunting, "Uh-huh," Thaddeus scratched at his cheek.

“ _You_ should not be strayin’ so far from the house." Jackson scolded, nodding his chin toward Eudora, “above all, not with her at your side.”

One of Thaddeus’ black brows dipped low, his lip rising in a snarl.

A bemused smile softened Jackson's face, “I see your temper did not abandon you while you were ill.” He looked down and stepping back, “Taddy, if’n I had been someone else, say someone unsociable…this all would have gotten touchy, right quick.” His blue eyes shifted to Eudora as she drew near “… and then what?”

Thaddeus’ eyes also angled to his twin as he said. “Has it _vraiment_ gotten so _mal_?”

“Most are findin’ it better to ride on the side of caution. I cannot urge you strongly enough to keep closer to the house.” Grabbing his reins, Jackson began walking his huffing horse. His eyes again sliding to Eudora, “Damnation, but I feared the worst when I heard gunfire.” He patted the horse’s neck, “pushed the hell out of Nero, hopin’ to get here in time to be of use."

‘Does he truly expect _moi_ to believe,’ Thaddeus thought, ‘it is too damn risky for a man to do what the hell he has a mind to…on his own property?’ Looking to his holstered pistol, he frowned. ‘Cass cannot have changed so much, while Mams kept _moi_ inside. Ain’t any way decent folk are damn-well behavin’ as he is hintin’.’ Shoving his bangs back, he sarcastically grunted, "Fine; I will keep your fuckin’ advice in mind.”

Dropping Nero’s reins, Jackson rushed Thaddeus, snarling, “You best keep it in the front of your damn mind!”

The muscles in Thaddeus’ jaw popped taunt, his shoulder’s squaring up. However, he held back from taking a swing, as he still recalled the wallop Jackson's left hook packed.

“Damn it, Taddy, you would do well to cling tight to the fear you felt when you had no idea who was comin’ out of the trees.” Jackson hissed hotly. Taking a short, loud breath, he closed his eyes and, opening them, he took a step back. “I am not seekin’ to boss you. It is just...Taddy, suppose I had been a stranger.”

“Tell you what; I will take you at your word.”

Rolling his shoulders, Jackson snagged Nero’s reins and took off, walking the length of the field.

“Hello, Jackson,” Eudora called, bounding after him, and when she caught him, she wrapped her arms about his middle, giving him a tight squeeze. “Missed you.”

“And I you sweets.”

“How is Nero?”

“Grand as ever.”

Ducking under Jackson’s arm, she scratched the horse’s jawline. “You have _amoured_ ‘em since he was a foal.”

“That I have, still cannot believe he is mine.”

“Oh, I can…” She looked up with a toothy smile. “Peter said Nero took right to you, and you was _famille_ enough to deserve a _cheval_ from Sienna.”

“Gotta say, he was the best surprise I ever received,” Jackson answered absently, looking to Thaddeus packing his shooting supplies and frowned, still thinking about what might have happened to the twins.

“Why ain’t I seen you?”

Halting the stallion, Jackson tightened the saddle cinch. “I had medical classes in Saint Joseph, so I ain't been able to get over. How has Lafe been doin’ since what happened at the Barnett's?”

Eudora looked down with a frown, “you ain’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

Fiddling with Nero’s mane, Eudora muttered in a tight voice. “Father sent Lafe away.”

“What?” Jackson blurted, letting the stirrup fall and spinning, “When did this happen?”

Looking up with large, glassy eyes, Eudora said, “Oh, Jackson, he sent 'em, rights after the picnic. Sent 'em, Jo, Katharine, and Mikey to _Grand-mère_ in _Louisiane_.”

Jackson stared, his mouth hanging agape.

She nodded, “Lafe was so sad and mad altogether. He argued and hollered; we could hear ‘em all over the house. Father still made 'em go. He said it was safer and that we all would be better there.” She looked to her twin, who had walked over and was standing with his arms crossed. “But Mams she got even madder than Lafe, ‘cause she knew _m’_ Taddy would die on the trip. So, we two got to stay home.”

Rubbing at his close-cropped, golden beard, Jackson shook his head.

“Is Gabe home?”

“Nope.” She shook her head, “we ain’t seen much of ‘em. Oh, but he were mad Lafe got sent away.” She bit her lower lip and then whispered, “He told Father he was a fool to do so.”

Jackson, just barely, nodded.

“Father said Lafe was a thick-witted dolt to fight, and he had to go.”

Jackson mumbled, “Is that so?” Still, rubbing at his beard.

His fists clenched tight, Thaddeus growled, “Yeah! It is fuckin' so.”

Noticing dust covering his boots, Jackson lifted each, rubbing the toe across the back of his pant leg, thinking, 'it was their Father’s right, to have Lafe clear out. It was a sensible move; sure, hope others see it the same.'   
“It ain’t fair how Father decided for Lafe,” Thaddeus said quietly, his blood pumping fast, his face reddening. “He fuckin’ forced ‘em to leave; made it so folks will be gossipin’ ‘bout ‘em. Know what…the hell with 'em and you too! 'Cause, I expect you are standin' there thinkin' on how Lafe has thrown a skirt over his head and ran away. Well, fuck you!”

“Thaddeus, Robert!?” Eudora hollered. "You apologize."

“ _Excusez-moi_ , Sis.”

"Not to _moi_." She pointed to Jackson.

Thaddeus’ lip curled into a tighter snarl.

“Taddy, hey..." Jackson held out his hands. "I am not here to fight. I agree with you. I damn-well…excuse me, Dora… anyways, I regret that I was in St. Joe. _Feu de l'enfer_ …excuse me, again, Dora…Lafe is a brother to me, and you know that. I would have liked to have seen ‘em afore he left." Jackson sighed, and rubbed a hand up his face, then turned back to Nero. "Anyways, y'all remember we Ericksen's are just beyond the fence line, if’n you need us.”

Thaddeus bowed his head, thinking, ‘ _Zut,_ of all people, Jackson would never think poorly of Lafe.’ Looking up, he stepped in, blocking Jackson from climbing into the saddle. “You rightly know _m’_ temper gets ahead of _m’_ thinkin’ _. Très désolé,_ come on up for a cool drink or a stiff one, whichever you prefer.”

“Thank you, another time. I was on my way home when you changed my course.”

“Jackson, _très désolé._ ”

“I know.” Jackson patted Thaddeus' shoulder, nodding at him to move so he could climb up on Nero.

Eudora’s green eyes had been flicking between the two of them, and abruptly she asked, “So, you ain’t really and truly mad at Taddy?"

"No, sweetheart, I ain’t."

Her nose wrinkled, and leaning closer; she bluntly asked, "Then is you scared?”

Blue and green eyes both turned on her.

“Why, Dora, you simply are not readin’ me correctly. I am merely tired; it has been a long ride from St. Joe,” Jackson replied, and looking to her twin, he motioned with his eyes for him to send her away.

“ _Chérie,_ go gather up them sumac branches? I reckon they might soften Mams roar, just a touch.”

Her mouth twitched to the side.

_“S'il vous plaît.”_

“Alrighty,” she muttered, trudging across the tall grass.

Once she was out of earshot, Jackson snagged Thaddeus by the back of the neck, reeling him in close. Immediately, Thaddeus set to twisting himself free.

“Hold still, damn YOU!” Jackson hissed, “Lafe being gone changes _everything!_ I cannot stay silent.”

Freezing, Thaddeus stared wide-eyed, and Jackson stared right back, with Thaddeus’ short, snorting breaths in his face, "have I your full attention, Taddy?"

Thaddeus' nodded sharply.

"Good," Jackson grunted. “I see the man in you ready to emerge. Hell, Lafe and I have joshed, most of the year, over how you been tryin’ to play at the part already. Well, Taddy, playtime is over.”

With confusion rising up, the angry flame in the green eyes softened.

“I am no longer politely advisin’ but orderin’...do not stray off by yourself! And, _Par Dieu, leave_ Dora up at the house.” His smoky-blue eyes flicked to the Remington holstered against Thaddeus’ belly. “You keep _that_ loaded and, on your person, at all times. Word is Gabe’s ridin’ with the Cavaliers as a Partisan Ranger.”

Thaddeus swallowed hard.

“If’n it is true, he has left you as Sienna’s lone sentry, without giving you a single damn word to the wise.” Jackson briefly leaned his forehead against Thaddeus’ “God’s Creation! I wish Lafe were here. But, he ain’t. Therefore, I am informin’ you; it would be best to keep scared day and night. For if’n Gabe irritates the wrong people, your world may be set on fire, and I am not speakin’ metaphorically.”

Falling back from the anger rolling from Jackson, Thaddeus did not make it far as he was still being firmly held.

“ _Feu de l'enfer_ , I love all y'all Crowes like you are kin. So, since Lafe ain’t here; I am speakin’ to you same as he would...watch yourself! Times are changin’, changin’ fast.” Slipping his hand to the side of Thaddeus' face, Jackson looked deep into his eyes. “I wish you the best, Taddy.” Releasing him, Jackson leapt on Nero. “And, if’n I did not have my own family to see too, I would stay on here with you.”

Staring up, Thaddeus could not find any words of answer.

“Heed me, Taddy…I ain’t joshin’ you none. Now, give my regards to the family,” and with a nod, he called, "bye, Dora." Looking back down, his eyes locked with Thaddeus. “Are we good?”

Swallowing at the gritty feeling in his throat, Thaddeus nodded, mumbling, “Yeah, yeah, we are.”

“I will stop by to assist when I can.” Then flashing a tight smile, Jackson kneed Nero into the trees.

When he was gone, a brisk wind eddied across the meadow, and Thaddeus’ realized he was sweating like he had been cutting hay. "Hey, Dora, let us head home.”

Moving into the gloaming darkness under the pin oaks, Thaddeus shot a look behind them. Inhaling deep, he knew he would never feel safe out in the open again.


	37. Chapter THIRTY-FOUR

Chapter Thirty-Four

Their _Grand-mère_ , Lorraine Genevieve Begnoir-Bueford, was a bona fide Creole. Her family had settled in Louisiana when it was scarcely considered habitable. She was a tiny woman, shrunken more by age; although, neither her size nor age did little to demean her standing.

An individual of any account in Louisiana knew of the Begnoir-Buefords. Both families were oftentimes topics of discussion from kitchens to parlors across the State. Lorraine herself was a tenacious and powerful force to parley against, bringing about the phrase ‘if Madame Begnoir-Bueford is not involved with such and such, then that society is not worth joinin’.’

Yet, despite all this, to her grandchildren, she was merely _Grand-mère,_ who lived in the red brick house on _rue de Royal_.

Her three-story Royal home was embraced on each level by elegantly, scrolled cast-iron verandas, which were profusely adorned with plants and gas lamps. Each of the rooms had two sets of lead glass, French doors; one allowed for viewing the city surrounding the house, while the other egressed into an inner, private courtyard.

Thirty years hence, Lorraine had purchased a notable gardener and given him full authority over her inner courtyard. He made it the envy of families throughout the _Vieux_ _Carré_. By mid-afternoon, the heady aroma rising from her garden was so thick that people passing on the street commented on how lovely the area smelled.

Inside the courtyard, a meandering, deep-green slate path wove its way through wide-leafed plants passing by, not one, but three fountains. As Lafayette and his sisters followed Odette along these slate stones, strolling by ferns, palmettos, hanging ivy, vibrant bunches of flowers, and singing birds, they could not help but stare in wonder.

When rounding a fountain of the Goddess Demeter, they came upon their _Grand-mère_ fast asleep on a chaise lounge. For it was here, in her private oasis, that Lorraine felt most at ease. Although she adored her formidable, luxurious home, it felt too large and empty since her husband's passing, every room, nook, and cranny reminding her of him.

None of the Crowes had seen their _Grand-mère_ in years, and they were shocked to discover she was not how they remembered. She had become old, and to their young eyes, ancient.

Clearing her throat, Odette said, “ _Maîtresse_.”

Lorraine woke, and the change in her was remarkable, for in waking, she looked not merely alive but infused with vitality. Sitting up, she smiled to her grandchildren, bunched beyond Odette like a scared litter of kittens. “Katharine, _vous_ have arrived.”

“Oh, _Grand-mère,_ it is so wonderful to be here.” Katharine cried, rushing forward and taking a seat beside Lorraine, her faded widow’s crepe spreading about the pair of them, as plain as any soldier’s blanket. “ _Merci beaucoup, Grand-mère_ for allowin’ us to impose on your hospitality, ‘specially with such a brief forewarnin’.”

“ _Ma Chérie_ , it is _vous_ who do _moi_ _honneur_. _Vous_ is a Begnoir-Bueford, and hence, _vous_ belong here as much as I and having _vous,_ all _vous,_ here will keep the loneliness at bay.” Clasping Katherine’s hand, Lorraine kissed it. “ _Ma Chérie_ , I am _très_ _désolé_ for your great loss. _Mon_ self, I still pine for _m’ doux amour,_ Robert. Bless his soul, though he has been gone these many years.” She shook her head with an air of lament, “I wish, so _très_ much to tell _vous_ the pain fades. Regrettably, I would be insincere. _Toujours_ _vous_ will miss the comfort of your _mari_.” Kissing her granddaughter’s cheek, Lorraine hugged her close. “Your brief wire said _vous_ would soon arrive. Where was it _vous_ sent it from again?”

“It was Plaquemine, _Grand-mère_ , and _mes excuses_ for the briefness of it. There was little time before our steamer packet left port.”

“I understand.” Lorraine patted her hand, her shining eyes tightening, narrowing as she switched her focus to the others. "Your _Père’s communiqué_ stated all his _petite_ birds, excepting _m’_ Gabriel, would arrive for _visite_.” A frown tugged at her brow, “ _Vous_ seem a little short by _m’_ count."

"There were some last moment changes."

"I see,” Lorraine said curtly, her voice rising a bit. “Then which of your _frères_ deemed to _visite moi_?"

Katherine raised her brows pointedly at Lafayette, and freeing himself of Michaël, he dashed off his hat, and flashing his dimpled smile, took a knee. “ _Bonjour, Grand-mère,_ it is Lafayette Henri Begnoir, and I am well-pleased to be here.” Slipping his grandmother’s hand from Katharine’s, he brushed his lips across its blue-veined back. “It has been far too long since I was last in your company.”

Lorraine tittered at his formal decorum, lighting up like a young girl accepting an invitation at a dance. “Ah...Lafe. I can make _vous_ out now.” She cupped his jawline in her palm, “regrettably, _m’_ sight is not as sharp as it once was. Why _m’ dolce fils, vous_ has grown into a _Monsieur.”_ Smiling warmly, she smoothed a lock of his dark hair from his eyes. “I suppose _vous_ has been informed _très beaucoup_ _vous_ resemble your namesake.”

As it was not something he had heard until this trip to New Orleans, Lafayette’s smile faltered.

Yet, Lorraine’s grew more robust, and shaking her head, she lovingly traced the smooth curve of his high cheekbone. Leaning forward, she kissed each of his cheeks, “ _non, vous_ are more handsome than he was; there is a gentleness in your eyes his _jamais_ held.”

Feeling forgotten, Joséphine crossed her arms, thinking, ‘if’n she does not sound exactly like those mealy-mouthed girls who prattle on ‘bout _m’ frères_.’

However, what Joséphine did not understand was back in Missouri ladies were idolized for their rarity, and her spirited loveliness had made her sought after. Yet, down here, where charming ladies were plentiful, it was not to be the same in any way.

The Deep South doted on their males, for they were the strength of a family. Once matured, a son guarded his family’s interests, even adding to their wealth and status with the correct marriage. More than anything else, he carried their ancestry in both his blood and his surname. Whereas a daughter only belonged to her family until she was wed, forevermore becoming another's property, while a son guaranteed the survival of a family’s name.

Even if Joséphine knew of these cultural divergences, they would make no difference to her. The short and sweet was she had never been ignored and did like the taste of it now. Unable to take it any longer, she raced up, kissing her grandmother’s cheek, chirping, “I too have missed you, Grand-mère.”

“Why, Joséphine, how silly of _moi_ to fail to notice _vous,_ ” Lorraine said, looking into her granddaughter's brilliant, almond eyes before scrutinizing her from hairline to hemline. “ _Vous_ has become an entirely lovely Parisian doll.” Shifting her attention back to Lafayette, she patted his chest. “ _Mon Chéri_ , shift aside, _s'il vous plaît_ , so I may speak with your _sœur_.”

Doing as bade, Lafayette rose and, stepping back, could not help thinking, ‘humpf…must be _qu’elle_ it feels like to be dismissed by royalty and kinda like…’ His nose wrinkled, “the sun is no longer shinin’ on you.’

“I am so very thrilled to be here in New Orleans.” Joséphine gushed, taking the seat Katherine had earlier vacated.

“Are _vous_?” Lorraine asked, taking hold of Joséphine’s hands, a wicked gleam coming to her dignified face. “I hope _vous_ will say the same in a few weeks. See, it was decidedly silly of _moi_ to overlook _vous…_ ” As she said this, the air between them became as cold as her new expression. “…your _père_ wrote, at length, how he feels he has failed to raise _vous_ appropriately.”

Joséphine leaned back, her eyes widening.

“ _Oui._ The appalling shame _vous_ has brought to the _famille_ and...” Lorraine’s eyes drifted to Lafayette, and she shook her head, “…the precarious danger _vous_ created for _m’ fils._ Antonio has undoubtedly failed; if these are the type of choices _vous_ makes. _M_ _on_ self, I am mortified, and knowing you are _m'_ own _précieux_ _bébé's_ child makes _moi_ twice as mortified.”

Joséphine inhaled and kept inhaling, the garden swimming blurrily as she looked about for Katherine.

“Cease fidgeting, this moment,” Lorraine commanded, drawing Joséphine closer, with strength far firmer than expected. “ _Vous_ are familiar with the value of your lineage?”

Joséphine nodded, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth.

“Then _vous_ understand, _vous_ are obligated to _honneur_ and fulfill the image of the _mesdemoiselles_ who have come before _vous_.”

As Joséphine nodded again, Lorraine tightened her hold, “Then why do _vous_ fail so?”

Her eyes shifting from Lorraine’s intense stare, Joséphine spotted Lafayette grinning to catch the moon. Knowing he was laughing at her, her anger rose in her face, and when it did, merriment lit up his eyes even more.

Catching the interluded, Lorraine scolded, “Joséphine Michèle Antoinette! _Vous_ shall pay heed to _moi!_ ”

“Yes _,_ _Grand-mère_.”

Turning to face Lafayette, who was only barely keeping his laughter held, Lorraine frowned grimly. “As a point, each of _vous_ pay heed to _moi_. I am delighted, purely delighted to have _vous_ here…” She loosened her hold on Joséphine, patting her hands. “… all of _vous_. Nevertheless, I will not tolerate undisciplined, frontier manners, or for that matter, loose conduct of any sort. None of _vous_ is to bring the slightest disgrace to this _maison_.” Not getting the reaction she wanted, her gaze singled him out until he nodded. “Each of _v_ _ous_ will do _honneur_ to your Crowe _noms_ while provin’ _vous_ are tributes to your Begnoir-Bueford blood.” Folding her hands in her lap, Lorraine unveiled the sweetest, most delicate china doll smile. “I do hope I am understood.”

Silence held for a long breath, until Katherine said, “Most assuredly, _Grand-mère_.”

Lorraine’s eyes shifted to her grandson, holding him in a knowing look.

Unveiling his dimples, Lafayette warmly, almost playfully, answered, “Most assuredly.”

With absolute firmness, she smiled back. “Do not try _moi, m’ fils.”_

Biting back his smile, Lafayette straightened his posture under her level glare. “ _Oui. Grand-mere, oui.”_

Returning her attention to Joséphine, she asked, “and _vous?”_

“Yes _,_ _Grand-mère_ ,” Joséphine mumbled, bowing her head, wishing, easily for the hundredth time, she had not turned Lafayette against her.

Softly, Lorraine stroked Joséphine’s back, “Do not fret, _m’ chérie,_ we shall become fabulous _amis_ , having joyous times. Now, Katharine, _jamais,_ did I believe I would live to meet a great-grandchild. _S'il vous plaît_ , introduce your _fils._ ”

After refreshments and pleasantries, Odette escorted them to their private chambers.

Relived to be on his own, Lafayette closed the door to his room, and standing with his back to it, he gaped at the white, pale blue, and buff-colored room. He swallowed hard, feeling as out of place as his three scuffed leather trunks looked in the center of the refined space. Exhaling, he kicked off his boots and paced the length of the room, enjoying the feel of the thick, floral decorated rug beneath his feet.

Although, his nose wrinkled at the pale blue padded head and footboards of the extensively carved bed smothered in pillows duplicating the hues of the room. Releasing a yawn, he stripped to his pants and dropped onto the bed. The cotton duvet felt opulent and cool against his skin; as he sank deeper into the goose down mattress, he closed his eyes with a sigh, at long last, letting his defenses go.

“Mister Crowe.” Tap... Tap... "Mister Crowe.”

Opening his eyes to purplish twilight, Lafayette drug a hand across his face, his mind heavy and muddled. He rubbed again at his face, ‘Must have fallen asleep.’

Tap. . . "Mister Crowe". . . Tap.

Struggling toward wakefulness, he answered, _“Oui_.”

The dark, heavy door to his room creaked open, and Lafayette’s mind clamored, ‘you are supposed to be on guard.’ Flopping up with a grunt, he surged for his pistol, laying on the bedside table. When it came to him, ‘we are at _Grand-mere’s…_ they are safe _._ ’ Releasing a heartfelt sigh, he flopped back.

Laying there, his eyes half-closed, he could hear distant, jubilant music mixed with voices and street noises. It was the aria of the _Veux Carré,_ he recalled, as standard and regular as the wind, katydids, and frogs at Sienna.

“Excuse me, Mister Crowe, Sir?”

Hearing a nervous shuffle, it came to him, 'there is someone in _m’ chambre_.' Balling a fist behind his head, he raised himself some to take a look.

Near the door, the fading, evening light outlined a curvaceous female.

Licking his lips, he raspingly said, “come closer,” aware his dry throat had him sounding harsh, even to his own ears.

Still, she approached.

Pushing to his elbow, he studied her, thinking, ‘ _p_ _ar Dieu_ , she is a _petite une_.' Swallowing, a few times more, hoping to soften his voice, he said, " _S'il vous plaît,_ come closer."

Timid, silent steps brought her to the curved edge of the footboard, and the last light coming through the glass French doors glinted across her eyes as they darted to him and hastily away.

She was a pale blonde with corkscrew curls tied in a kerchief, but here-and-there, they had escaped, to sway and bob about her face. Their movement drew Lafayette’s attention to her delicate face, pink rosebud lips, and on to her full bust-line. Standing so near, he could smell her womanly scent, and in his half-awake state, his groin tightened.

She licked her lips, “Mister Crowe?”

“ _Oui,”_ he replied huskily, the movement of her hands clenching at the waistline of her shirt, catching his eye. Rolling on his side, he studied her more, most notably her wide, almost scared eyes. Softly he smiled, thinking, ‘why, despite her body, she is more a child than a _mademoiselle_.’ Releasing a warm smile, he asked. "Who are you, Lil' _une_?"

“Maeve Durham, Sir.”

“And, how can I…” as yawn took hold of him, he realized, ‘it appears _Grand-mère_ is followin’ the new fashion of hirin’ Irish servants.’

“ _Madam_ Bueford sent me to fetch you.”

“Is that so, well, lil’ Maeve, why is that?” He asked, scratching, absently, at his bare belly.

Her eyes followed the movement, and when she realized he was watching her, she squeaked and averted her gaze, turning as many varying shades of red as a summer sunset.

Her embarrassment tickled him, and he laughed, the sound filling the air like a warm, bold whiskey.

Peeking his way, she said, “I be supposin’ to fetch ye to dinner, Sir.”

“ _Merci,_ inform the _filles_ ; I will be down soon.”

With a nod, she yipped, “Will do, Sir,” and scurried from the room, leaving the door hanging ajar.

Another laugh rolled from Lafayette along with a huge yawn, as he thought. ‘So, this is to be _m’ nouveau_ life.’ He sat up, putting his bare feet on the floor, ‘can see it is goin’ to be _très_ different from back home, where I am hollered for like a field hand for dinner, and here a _petite belle_ comes a whisperin’ in _m’_ ear.’ He yawned again, ‘might take a bit gettin’ used to.’


	38. Chapter THIRTY-FIVE

Chapter Thirty-Five

Staring at the blank page before him, Antonio took a large swallow of bourbon, its warmth ebbing through his veins. Downing the rest, he refilled the square-cut tumbler, taking another gulp before setting it on his desk. Even after having drunk three glasses, his hand still shook so much that he spattered ink across the paper when he began to write.

November 12, 1859

Sienna, Harrisonville, Cass County, Missouri

Lafayette,

I am grateful for the wires and letters you sent detailing y’alls travels. By this date, I am hopeful y’all are securely ensconced in Lorraine’s home. However, since you have not made me aware of this, I must also continue to trust all is well.

We are all doing well here. Admittedly though, your absence is sorely felt. See, when Peter and Web escorted y’all to the boat, eleven more slaves absconded, and we are positively undermanned. Still, that being said, I have also rendered a decision, which I argued against for some time. I have concluded that being a slave owner in a State divided as ours could lead to Sienna's tragic consequences. So, along with freedom papers, I bestowed upon our remaining slaves a sum of money, on the condition that they move far away.

The only difficulty I met was old George; he flat out refused to go. Then Marie joined him, weeping until she was weak in the knees. How odd? For, according to you boys, every slave here wanted their freedom. But George and Marie kept saying Sienna was their home and it was plain mean to make them leave. I gave in. What else was I to do? So, now just as Peter, Simone, and Web have been all these years, these two are also free and earning a servant’s wage. The capital I invested, over the years, in slaves is now unredeemably gone. Their numbers were a symbol of Sienna’s wealth, a point I never felt you nor your younger brother fully understood. And even now, I can hear you replying…they were a symbol of our sin and cruelty, which I suppose is a more civil answer than I can imagine your brother laying out.

But, Lafe, you did not win this debate. I still and will always think differently than y’all regarding slavery. However, my ultimate desire to protect Sienna made the decision, not yours or any other’s words. Nonetheless, I know you will count this as a win, for still you have gotten your way, and come spring planting, I will be required to hire on hands to work our fields.

I am still learning techniques for dealing with your younger brother. No matter what I try, he pulls back with a snort, his temperament worse than any horse I have ever trained. Further, I have garnered a fuller understanding of how much he listened to you, and that, among other reasons, makes me lament your absence. However, I do not regret sending you South as your entanglement with that Federal Jayhawk was bound to have a grievous outcome. Sending you South was correct, and I sleep better knowing you are far from his or any other blue coat’s grasp. Besides, I must admit that having family near Lorraine at her age must be an enormous solace for her. Honestly, Lafe, it is humiliating that it took your loss of control to remind me of my obligations. I ought to have shipped you South prior to this; the proper time would have been when her brother, Henri passed, two years ago. If I had sent you then, it would have prevented the entirety of the Begnoir-Bueford industry being consigned into the hands of attorneys. I advise you to toe the line, adhere to her bidding, and take a firm grip on this opportunity.

I can see you frowning. But, my son, you will flourish there, and you will do so because of who and what you are. It would behoove you to cease conspiring schemes aimed at restoring you to Sienna, for the straight truth is Louisiana was always in your cards. Yet, knowing your stubbornness, I shall reiterate what I have said before. Lafayette Henri, you are not to step foot in Missouri until you are requested to do so.

Furthermore, you should keep in mind that abandoning your post would violate your promise to guardian your sisters. Have faith, Lafe, and life will reveal all to you.

With love, Father

Dropping the quill, Antonio tipped the bourbon decanter to refill his glass, only to discover it empty. Pushing to his feet, he stumbled to the mahogany sideboard with the steady thrum of self-loathing pounding in his head.

Pulling the stopper on an ornate, bowl bottomed decanter, he drank French brandy straight from the neck, swallowing rush after rush of the costly liqueur. In the mirror, over the sideboard, his reflection mocked him.

Lowering the bottle, he stared into the haggard man’s eyes, wishing blissful blackness would come, granting him a reprieve from his mistakes that clawed and ravaged him, each reappearing as if he was trapped on a never-ending race track. Placing his elbows on the sideboard, Antonio dropped his head in his raised hands, willing the blackness to drag him down.

Instead, he saw the occurrences from earlier in the day as plainly as if a play were being performed for him.

“I am saddlin’ to ride the east fence line. I want you down on the south one.” Antonio shouted, looking at the ceiling above the main hall. “Tad!?” A frown creased his face as he thought, ‘I can hear ‘em up there?' Rolling his jaw, Antonio roared, “Damn it, Thaddeus, answer me!!"

“I heard ya.”

“Then you goin’ do what I said!”

“ _Oui,_ after I finish fillin' these fuckin’ wood bins.”

Antonio glowered at the ceiling, 'Damnation, if’n that one ain’t a continual thorn in my side.’ With a shake of his head, he thought, ‘but, out of all of 'em, he is the one--" swinging the front door open.

“Howdy do, Father.”

Antonio’s first thought was, ‘thank you, Lord, for not lettin’ ‘em be lyin’ dead in some lost glen.’

Gabriel peered ludicrously at his father and giggled, “Why did I…did I strike you speechless?”

The mocking reminded Antonio how displeased he was with his eldest, and he demanded, “Where in the hell have you been!?”

Raising his chin, a barking laugh rumbled from Gabriel, “well, feu _de l'enfer_ , it be _bonne_ to see you, too.”

Dropping a shoulder against the doorframe, Antonio studied Gabriel from his jauntily cocked hat to his holsters to his muddy boots. “Are you inebriated?”

A jack-o-lantern grin split Gabriel’s face in two, and with a wink, he replied, “thoroughly.”

Antonio’s voice lowered, “I demand, you explain your damn whereabouts!”

Brushing by with a full-throated braying laugh, Gabriel walked into the house.

Before he made it far, Antonio clamped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You will answer me when I address you.”

Gabriel’s face altered to a leering sneer, and he shook his father’s hand from him as if it were no more than a locust pausing in flight.

Frowning blackly, Antonio said, “I have heard only rumors regardin’ your damn whereabouts. Damnation, Gabe, I want to know what you have been doin’?!”

In reply, Gabriel slurred, “Oh, this-and-that,” never slowing his rolling, stumble toward the central staircase.

“That is not a sufficient answer,” Antonio snapped, rushing past to take up position on the bottom step, effectively blocking his son’s progress. "What has kept you from assistin’ here at Sienna.”

Shoving his hat back, Gabriel’s droopy eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips, standing straighter. “Why the fuck should I tell you?”

With a bullish snort, Antonio shoved Gabriel, sending him windmilling backward. “For the single reason that I am your Father. Damnation, look what you have become….” He stepped after him, “a work-shy, no-good drunk, a pitiable shame to your name, hellfire, to all of’n us.”

A snarl rose in a Gabriel, and lowering his head, he charged.

Stepping in, Antonio brought Gabriel up short with a right hook that set him back in his heels. “How much damn whiskey have you had that you think to attack me?!” 

Gabriel’s tongue flicked across the blood welling from the corner of his mouth, and when he spoke, there was a coldness to him that filled the room. “Frankly, not as much as I would like, and right about now, I am tellin’ _mon_ self it would be wrong to tear you limb from fuckin’ limb. Tellin’ _mon_ self and hopin’ I will listen.”

Antonio warily eyed his son’s fists, hanging at his side like granite stones.

“See, Father, the way I tally it, I am of age to manage _m’_ own damn life. So, I shall do what I want, when I want, and without your fuckin' permission _._ ” Veering about his father, Gabriel lunged for the staircase.

“What has become of you?”

Clinging tight to the newel post, Gabriel took a deep breath and releasing it, his strength and anger seemed to wilt away. “I am fed up.”

In a dismayed voice, Antonio echoed, “fed up?”

“ _Oui._ Fed up with..." Gabriel waved a hand about him, "…the lies, the pantomimes, the effort.” He turned his bleary eyes to Antonio, “So, why do you not just let _moi_ fuckin’ be.”

Unable to find a framework to attach the reply to, Antonio rubbed his knuckles, watching Gabriel drag himself up each step. When, abruptly, a singular and relatively new insight came to Antonio. 'Gabe needs me.'

It was the first time he could recall ever seeing something more critical than being top stallion, and racing up the steps, Antonio slid an arm about Gabriel’s waist. “I should not have struck you. You must have imbibed rotted liquor, confusing your mind, so you do not realize what you are sayin’. Well, Gabe, after you have slept it off, we can figure on what is causin’ you to destroy yourself, and I might be able to --” He stopped speaking because Gabriel was pulling back, staring at him as if spiders were crawling out of his ears.

Taking a shallow breath, Antonio softened his voice to the same tone; he used when dealing with a spooked horse. “Gabe, it is all right...it will all be fine, lean on me, and later we will fix whatever is ailin’ you.”

An indistinct sound began deep in Gabriel, and as he reared back, falling, the sound broke free in a piercing screech that ended sharply when he crashed to the wood floor of the main hall.

Running after him, Antonio cried, “Gabe?”

But, with a shriek, Gabriel crab-crawled up the runner rug, squalling, “You stay the hell away from _moi_!”

Antonio held out a hand. “Easy now, easy now... all will be well, let me help you."

Gabriel howled, “ _Non_. _Non_! _NON_!" his eyes showing more white than brown as he clambered to his feet. “You do _not_ get to fuckin’ put on airs like you care for _moi_!”

Edging down the runner, Antonio cooed, “Shh, easy, easy now. You must have drunk some genuine poison; it has your mind twisted, clouding your judgment. Let me help you."

Gabriel’s rapid retreat slammed him into the marble-topped table, holding Boreas’ statue, and with tears dripping from his chin, he garbled, "Get back... stay the fuck back!"

Antonio came on, “Hush now. You are home, and whatever you drank is eatin’ you up...let me help you."

Turning his face away, Gabriel pressed his eyes closed.

Gently, Antonio laid a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Come on, Gabe, I love yo--”

With an unearthly roar, Gabriel shot to his feet, “stay the hell back!” He wavered, stumbled sideways, and then planted his boots. “Stay back!” Bowing his head, he took several deep, shuddering breaths.

“That is it,” Antonio encouraged, patting Gabriel’s arm, “just breathe.”

“Do not touch _moi._ ” Gabriel raised his head, his eyes sharp, bright, and focused.

“Gabe?”

“Do not touch _moi._ ” He shook his head, and a stoic calm came to Gabriel. “There was a time I needed you, and you abandoned _moi._ ” He raised his chin, a look of hate coming to his face. “Then for all those years afterward, you behaved like a King of Persia returnin’ from your adventures with presents and stories of the world you lived in. The world you chose over _moi…non_ over all of’n us. You threw us away like rubbish, left us to be fuckin’ raised by negros, and now...NOW you want to be part of our lives, AND even more, you want us to play along, act like we are overjoyed to have you here.” Gabriel raised his fist, saluting Antonio with his middle finger, “Well, screw you! How dare you claim to _amour moi_? You ain’t nothing ‘cepting the man who enjoys layin' claim on _moi_ , who stops in to dole out so-called fuckin’ words of wisdom, and perhaps a beatin’ or _duex_ to overall improve _moi_ before hittin’ the road again.” With a heave, Gabriel took a step. “I do not need your help, nor do I desire it. Not now, not fuckin’ ever.”

The raw truth of his son’s words seared through Antonio, even as he clung to his faltering belief, “what you drank, has fuddled your mind, and you do not mean what you are sayin’.”

“Oh, but the joy is, I do.” A malevolent smile spread across Gabriel’s face, “ _every_ fuckin’ word.”

“If’n you keep on, you will say more than aught,” Antonio nodded solemnly, “you will lament your words.”

“How in Lucifer's bright red horns, will I lament informin’ you what I have been thinkin' all these years?”

Turning from him, Antonio said, “I will not listen to more until you are clear-headed.” 

“You think; I am not clear-headed?!”

Hearing Gabriel moving after him, Antonio glanced back.

“I am clearer than I have ever fuckin’ been. You just do not want to hear it.”

Taking a steadying breath, Antonio shook his head, retracing his steps to the front door.

“ _Feu de l'enfer_ , Father, doin' what you do best, ain’t you _?_ ”

Antonio started to turn but thought better and kept walking.

“Wait!” Gabriel chortled bitterly, “ _Non,_ Father, wait. I thought you wanted to know _m’_ goings and comings? Well, let _moi_ tell you. The way of it is this...I have ridden from Clay County to Vernon and back again. What is more important is what I have heard all along the fuckin’ way; heard 'till my gut is sick and my knuckles are swollen from fightin'.”

At this, Antonio stopped, turning back.

“Ah... you wish to listen now, huh?” The tip of Gabriel’s tongue slid along his top teeth, smearing the blood there, “the talk of the counties is of _m' frère cadet_." Gabriel shook his head, holding out a hand. " _Non,_ wait. Let _moi_ rephrase that. The talk of the counties is how lily-livered and spineless _m' frère cadet_ is.”

Antonio blanched, his brows rising.

“This scheme of yours has ruined 'em. Between you and _moi_ …we both know you are the coward; not Lafe.”

Feeling the bones creaking in his balled-up fists, Antonio inhaled hard, reminding himself, ‘he is poison drunk.’

Not getting the response he wanted, Gabriel stamped a boot on the floor, the hollow bang of it echoing through the house like a cannon shot. “How dare you let everyone believe; Lafe picked a damn fight, he could not finish and ran away with his tail between his legs! How dare you impose your fuckin’ white-belly, spinelessness on _m’ frère cadet_? All I can say is there ain’t _non_ way you can ever order _moi_ to do the same AND… I am grateful as hell; I did not inherit your fuckin’ yellow-streak.”

Antonio did not realize he had turned until he felt the crunch of his fist connecting with Gabriel’s square-jaw, and without letting up, he beat his son to his knees. Oddly enough, it was Gabriel’s laughter that seeped through Antonio’s red rage and lurching back; he stared in horror at his son’s bleeding face.

Gabriel’s laughter kept rising, up and up like a banshee’s scream, filtering into every corner of the house and baring his bloodied teeth like a wolf; he rolled into a squat, ruby-drops splashing the front of his shirt.

Wide-eyed and breathless, Antonio retreated, and as he did, the laughter abruptly collapsed as Gabriel spit a mouthful of blood onto the tapestry rug. “Gabe, I--”

“ _Ferme ta gueule_. You speak of _amour_.” Gabriel pushed himself to his feet, “Ha! Ain’t the first time; I have felt your _amour_. _Feu de l'enfer_ , this ain’t _non_ different than the day you were showin’ Taddy _amour_ by kickin' em like some worthless cur. You do recall that?”

Antonio took a step backward.

“If’n Brody, Web, and I had not interceded, I reckon your damn _amour_ would have, most likely, maimed or killed ‘em.”

Swallowing hard, Antonio took another step back.

“ _Non,_ this ain't _non_ different. ‘Ceptin’ I am too big to beat down like you did him.” Gabriel followed. “I have said ‘bout all I wish, ‘cepting this _une_ last bit. See, I am positive Lafe only did as ordered ‘cause the manner you rule over us. That and he is still too damn young to know any better. Well, _Father_ , a day will dawn when _m’ frères_ will nut up and inform you what they think. But, today…today is _m_ _’_ day…” He paused, unveiling a leering smile, his eyes darted about him. “I am also damn certain _m’ petit frère_ is nearby listenin'. So, Squirt, listen sharp, and gain some damn strength from _m’_ words.” Wiping blood from his eye, Gabriel refocused on Antonio. “You treat the _trois_ of’n us like we were born for you to conquer and command. Well, _non_ more, I am through with your ways.”

Walking calmly up to Antonio, Gabriel solemnly said, “If’n you _ever_ again strike _moi_ , _feu de l'enfer_ if’n you ever strike one of _m' frères_.” He leaned in close with a predatory smile, “I will kill you.”

Raising his head to his bleary-eyed reflection of himself, Antonio wearily asked it. "Was I wrong to retreat from Gabe?"

Taking another swig of brandy, he crumpled to the floor, feeling more tired than he ever had. 'Perhaps I should have thrown him from the property, allowin’ em to stay, gave Gabe the upper hand. ‘Cept, how do I go about disownin’ my eldest, just for being honest?’

Antonio pressed his forehead to his bent knee. 'Gabe had been correct, too.... Tad was listening. Lord knows how long he had been standin’ in the front parlor.’

Placing the brandy decanter to his lips, Antonio swallowed until it was empty and leaning his head back against the curved front of the sideboard, he thought. ‘How will I ever purge the sound of Gabe's laughter from my head. Or Tad’s boots as he bolted away from me?’


	39. Chapter THIRTY-SIX

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Father?”

From somewhere outside his agony, Antonio heard a voice.

“Father?”

Opening his eyes, he found Eudora sitting before him, holding one of his battered hands.

“Why are you cryin'?”

Using the back of his free hand, he smeared at his wet face.

Frowning softly, Eudora scootched closer, laying her cheek against his bent knee, and absently, he stroked her dark hair, tied back with a pear-green silk ribbon. “Dora, do you know I love you?”

“ _Oui,_ Father.” The two words were full of innocent adoration.

“I wonder if’n any of the others know it.”

“I tell them you do.”

He had not expected an answer, and his eyes widened, “Who do you tell?”

Sitting up, she looked directly at him, “ _m’ frères_.”

“Why?”

The fingers of her right hand twisted one of her boot laces that hung longer than its mate, round and round, until with a shrug, she turned to watch the crackling fire, falling to pieces in the wide-mouthed fireplace.

With a sigh, Antonio thought, ‘she looks so like my Gena.” Releasing another sigh, he closed his eyes, listening to the steady thrum of the liquor pulsing in him, and he came to feel as if he was bobbing on a dark, malicious sea. The unrelenting beat pounding him, dragging him deeper into his memories, until he was once more kneeling at his wife’s grave with the cold weight of the pistol in his mouth.

‘Ah, Gena, night after night, I tasted of that cold metal. All I wanted was to be with you. Yet, each time my finger tightened, I swear I could hear you whispering. ‘ _Do not! M’ bébés will be torn apart, doled out to relatives who are strangers to ‘em._ ’ I knew if’n that came to pass, you would never forgive me. And yet, I could not bear being here…being near them…being a part of their grief. Gabe is correct; I ran away.’

Eudora’s bright eyes shifted from the fire to study the man her brothers so often cursed, and her brows drew together. “Why do they dislike you so?”

Her words jolted him back, “who?”

“ _Mon frères.”_

He nodded slowly, his eyes drifting to study the flickering shadows created by the fire.

“Why?”

“Well…” he paused, urging her to sit beside him so he could straighten out his aching knees. “I would say it has something to do with my being gone so much.”

“Then, why do you go?”

“If’n you had asked me six months ago, I would have said I was workin’.”

She frowned, nodding, “the race line?”

He nodded in reply.

“But now?”

“With the difficulties that are risin’ up—" He smiled softly, knowing she would not understand all that and hugging her, he instead said, “I thought it might be best to be here. Then being here made me realize. . .” He exhaled heavily.

“ _Qu’elle_?”

“That I have failed y’all.”

“I do not think you failed us.” A corner of her mouth pulling into a frown, “But, I am sad when you are gone.”

“I apologize for that, Sweetie.” He kissed the top of her head, and she snuggled in closer.

“It is all right. You are here now.”

He kissed her again, thinking, ‘I am here now, and to Dora, that is all that matters. For once, how she is. . . well, it is a blessin’, ‘cause my neglect has not harmed her.’

“Father?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did the race line keep you away?”

“It was not just them. I would tell myself it was, but I came to understand what I was truly doin’ was tryin’ to outrun the sadness I felt when your _Mère_ went on to heaven.”

“How silly, you cannot run away from sadness.”

“No. No, you cannot.”

Eudora sighed, leaning comfortably against him, "What was _Mère_ like?"

“Why, I know Simone has done told you all about ‘er.”

“Yeah…” she pulled back, searching his face. “…you never have.”

Looking beyond his daughter, he recalled her Mother, a smile forming on his face. “She was a determined soul. Once your _Mère_ set her mind, t’weren’t nothing could budge ‘er.” He nodded, “Y’all have her stubbornness, and I pity the person who crosses any of you.”

A laugh burst from Eudora and elbowing him; she chirped, “You hit the nail on the head there.”

“Oh, I know, for I have been on the receivin’ end of all y’alls obstinance, numerous times.” Antonio answered, bemusement lighting up his eyes, “I recollect a time, back when Katharine was itty-bitty, and I fell to calling her ‘Kitty Cat.’

"I like that."

"Your _Mère_ did not.” His face filled with a warmth as he looked back through the years. “Yup, Gena took an immediate dislikin’ to it. Informed me, we had named our daughter Katharine and Katharine was what we would call her, not some triflin’ pet name.” He shook his head. “Oh, but she was big on formal names, fully believed a strong name gave a person character to live up to.” A small rumble of laughter rolled from him. “Gracious, but what she would have to say ‘bout all the pet names 'round here. "

Eudora’s face fairly glowed as she raptly listened.

"Would you believe, your _Mère,_ would not let me see Gabriel until I agreed to let ‘er name him as she wished? Talk ‘bout stubborn."

"And, _Mère_ named him Gabriel Matthew," Eudora said with a hint of pride. "It is a _bonne_ _nom_."

Antonio laughed huskily, "Oh, no, Sweetie. She named him more than that."

"Huh?"

"He was baptized Gabriel Matthew Antonio Maximillian."

Eudora's eyebrows rose as far as they could go, “he has _quatre noms_."

“He does, and I must say she was correct...he is certainly livin’ up to all the character she placed on him. Yep, and thinkin’ on it, I can see her grit in his spirit also.”

“If’n Gabe has her grit. . .” Eudora tilted her head, “Then _qu’elle_ does Katharine have?”

Stroking his mustache, he considered her question, “I would say Katharine Lorraine Abigail has her charming grace. All who visit here, tell me, how Gena would be right proud of her gracious daughter.”

“And Lafe?”

“Lafayette Henri Begnoir is more like me,” Antonio nodded, “that boy over-analyzes himself and a situation, same way I do.” Then recalling what men were saying about his son, Antonio frowned bitterly.

Wrapping her arms tight about her knees, Eudora quietly asked, “Is it _mal_ to over-analyze?”

“Sometimes, yes, and sometimes no, it means you think too much.”

Heaving out a sigh, she giggled, “well, Lafe does that. It is sad that he ain’t got any of _Mère_ in ‘em.”

“Now, I did not say that, ‘cause he fully has her charisma _._ ”

Her brows furrowed low, “charisma?” 

“It means...” He looked off for a moment and then nodded, “to inspire devotion by doin’ or sayin’ just the right bit at the exact right moment.”

“Oh! Like when Mams says Lafe could talk St. Peter into lettin’ Lucifer through the gate.”

“Exactly,” Antonio answered with a laugh. “That would bring us to Josephine Michelle Antoinette. She and her _Mère_ both agonize over a person not liking ‘em, and they will go to great lengths to make another happy.”

“That is her. Josie is _toujours bonne_ to _moi_.” The sparkle that had risen in Eudora faded. “I sure miss her.”

“Me, too.” Antonio said with a sigh, feeling his drunkenness fading, “I suppose that ‘bout covers all y’all.”

“ _Non_ silly...you forgot _moi_ and Taddy.”

“Well, Eudora Lorraine, you already know you have her sweetness, and you look like ‘er. Times are when I ride up the drive, and you run out wavin’ to me…for a second, I think you are my Gena. I promise you, Dora, I am not shining you on whenever I say you look like your _Mère_.”

“Except, for _m_ _’_ eyes.”

“Apart from your eyes,” he kissed her forehead. “I have not the slightest notion where you got them green, green eyes.”

“That is what everyone says.” She answered, grinning playfully, “and Taddy?”

Antonio rubbed a finger across the bridge of his nose, thinking, 'What am I to say? I have spent a lifetime avoidin’ her twin.’ His eyes strayed to the moonlit yard, recalling the past. ‘I hear Gena screamin’ when I look at 'em, and I always the images come back of him bathed in her blood from havin’ been cut free. I still see ‘em laying on the wood floor where I placed ‘em as I begged God to take ‘em back and leave Gena here, with me. But he was. . . _is_ our son.’ Abruptly he saw all his cruel selfishness and felt sick, tears slipping over his cheekbones, disappearing into his thick mustache.

“Father, you are cryin' again.”

Still deep in his thoughts, he did not respond. ‘Despite what I have done…felt for ‘em. Surely a part of me has always loved ‘em.” His eyes slanted to study Eudora’s face, ‘Why have I never had these feelings for her? Perhaps, it was not him that killed Gena but her. Was she not also cut from my love’s body?' He bit his lower lip, wishing for another drink.

"Are you all right?"

'For Dora, her twin is the most important part of her life.’ He thought, passing her a small tight smile. ‘There must be something I can say of ‘em.’ Running over what he knew of her twin, he could not decipher a single-unique detail. Seeing apprehension building in her face, Antonio started speaking in a ramble, hoping to stumble upon a touch of truth for her. “My apologies, Dora, my thoughts distracted me. That twin of yours, he—”

She jabbed him with her index finger, her face pinched with worry, or maybe it was sadness. “Uh-huh, Father, say his _name_ just like you did everyone else.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded, tightly saying, “Thaddeus Robert.”

Her face became so brilliantly happy that Antonio was momentarily taken aback, and she edged forward, quivering with curious excitement. “That is right, Thaddeus Robert, tell _moi_ ‘bout ‘em?”

“Well, he has pound-for-pound as much grit as Gabe, and I hear, there ain’t anyone who remains angry with ‘em long. Also, he makes friends wherever he goes, so he must have as much charisma as Katharine.”

Eudora nodded enthusiastically.

Encouraged, he kept on, "I have heard enough tales to know, he can be a silver-tongued trickster like Lafe."

Eudora nodded more.

‘Hmm, maybe I know him better than I reasoned.’ Antonio thought, taking a breath before continuing, “and just like Josie, he will bend over backwards to make others happy." When like a bolt from heaven, an understanding hit him, and he gasped, "Good God, Tad!”

“ _Qu’elle_?”

“How did I not see it before?"

Eudora sat straighter, " _Qu’elle_???"

Antonio’s mouth felt dry, and he rubbed a palm across his lips, “he has more of my Gena in him than all y’all.”

Eudora’s forehead furrowed with row after row of creases, making her, even more, a mirror of her twin and tilting her head, she said. “If’n Taddy is that much like _Mère. . .”_ She gripped tight of Antonio’s hand. “Then I get why her goin' to heaven made you so sad.”

“Thank you, Dora.” Lifting his hand, to kiss the back of hers.

“Father, is it not just wonderful how she placed bits of herself in all of’n us? And, we only got to look to each other to know her, like she never left at all.”

“Oh, Dora,” Antonio gulped, pulling her into his arms, the errors of his life coming full circle, his mind screaming out. ‘Hellfire, you never took the time to see _her_ in the children! Why did you wallow in grief like that, running, always running…when she was _here_ all along?’ Holding Eudora tighter, Antonio kissed the top of her head, saying to himself. ‘I swear, Lord, I swear, I will labor to undo the damage I have wrought, and Gena, my darling, I promise, I will, _I will_ strive to repair my failures. . . for you and….for me.’


	40. Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Two-stories below the active, buzzing Creoles reminded Lafayette of the beehives back home, and leaning heavier on the cast-iron veranda railing, he yawned, shaking his head. “Feels like early fall, and here it is nearly December.” Studying the sunbaked slate and red clay roofs surrounding him, he just could not picture them blanketed in snow. ‘Figure by now, Dora has been beggin’ to go huntin’ for a tree. She certainly loves havin’ _une_ in the parlor. Wonder if’n Celia stayed with the Youngers to enjoy Christmas in Harrisonville?’

Gripping the railing so tight its flat edge cut into his palms; Lafayette bowed his head. ‘Damnation, I have to cease thinkin’ on her, she got _bonne_ clear look at _m’_ rage.’ He exhaled his frustration, ‘and to the tip scale, I left without fulfillin’ _m’ promesse._ She is too smart to be wantin’ _moi._ Her and _moi_ was a nice dream, but I gotta cease torturin’ _mon_ self.’ Releasing a snarling growl, he shoved off the railing and stalked back into his room. Yet, for a full minute, he stayed at the glass doors, staring at the opposing building before turning away.

Walking by his desk, he halted, dragging a finger along its curved edge, he thought. ‘I had only to mention needin’ a place to study, and this damn behemoth appeared as if whisked in on angel wings.’ He considered its clutter-strewn surface newspapers, novels, law books, his own scribblings, and noticing Father’s latest letter, he sucked at his front teeth. Choosing one of Kent James, ‘American Law Commentaries,’ he ran a thumb across the raised gilt gold _‘Vol. III’_ on its spine.

Releasing a heavy sigh, he laid the book down and began pacing. Except, on catching his reflection in the chifferobe’s full-length mirror, he came to a halt. He had not bothered to finish dressing and frowned at his shirtless image, for he could see his ribs, all of them. Rolling his shoulders, he mumbled, “I need to start eatin’ more regular.” All the while, knowing, he would not, as his appetite had left him when he rode away from Sienna.

Flexing an arm, Lafayette’s brows bunched, and sweeping his long hair from his face; he took closer inventory. _'Mon_ eyes are duller than an old man past his prime.' He scowled, his dimples becoming trenches in his unshaven face. ' _Feu de l’enfer_ , I look like _dix_ miles of _mal_ road. Ain’t any sort of way Celia would want _moi_ like this.' He frowned hard, briskly shook his head, and snagged the bottle of Beam, pouring himself three-fingers of the amber bourbon.

Feeling of the decorative cuts in the heavy, crystal tumbler, he thought, ‘touch early to be drinkin’.’ Then, with a shrug, skulked away with the tumbler in his hand to his room’s interior veranda that afforded a view of the garden. Not bothering to shut the doors, he dropped into the woven-cane, plantation chair, and scrunched low in a posture; he knew Simone would have scolded him for, thinking, “ _Par Dieu,_ havin’ Mams tear into _moi_ would be damn wonderful. Leastways, it would mean I was home and not here.”

Fetching his half-smoked cigar from the night before out of the ashtray, he relit it, releasing a set of smoke rings that moved with a melancholy languor that matched the house, as it was currently naptime. It had never occurred to Lafayette that ladies were needed to take naps. The first time Joséphine had been informed, the spark of shock that lit up her face had thrown him into a fit of braying laughter. However, his mirth evaporated when his _Grand-mère_ scolded, ‘ _Cannot fathom what vous finds so humorous, m’ fils. Mademoiselles of substance display their upbringing by taking an afternoon respite. Why must I continue to reiterate to each of vous, how I utterly expect m’ bloodline to obey the acknowledged codes of society.’_

Playing out another herd of smoke rings, Lafayette tracked their wobbling ascent to the sky above. ‘How I wish I could escape _m’ nouveau_ rank, so easily. Never in all _m’_ days did I imagine a _maison_ could be so damn muted and restrained.’

Taking another draw on the cigar, he let the smoke snake through his teeth like the Chinese dragon incense burner in the parlor. ‘What I would not give to be with a few of _m’ amis_ ‘bout now, even better kick up a ruckus somewheres with Gabe and Tad of the likes the whole county could bluster on about.’ Rolling the cigar between his thumb and forefinger, he stared at its glowing tip, “wonder if’n any of’ em miss _moi_ at all?”

“ _Maître_ Lafe, _vous_ must not invite in the cold. It dones makes _mon Maîtresse’s_ bones ache.”

Squawking, “ _Jésus a pleuré_ , Odette!” Lafayette, all but vaulted from his chair and swift as a cat, snatched the glass of bourbon as it tipped, falling.

Crossing her arms, she sucked in her lips.

“Why the hell, ain’t you off sleepin’ like the rest of 'em?” Lafayette snarled, swiping red-gold droplets from his charcoal-colored pants.

Without a word, Odette pulled the lead glass French doors closed, then crossing to the veranda railing; she rubbed of her eyes, where a dull ache throbbed from spending the morning clashing with Joséphine. Turning and setting the small of her back to the sea-green painted ornate, ivy twisted railing, she took in her Mistress’ grandson, who was avidly studying the sloshing liqueur inside his glass, Odette thought. ‘All reports done been correct ‘bout that _fille._ Her behavior is atrocious, and I also see clearly how she is like him, especially their shared propensity for blasphemy.’

Not caring for the way Odette had startled him, Lafayette sipped at his bourbon while working to stifle down his irritation. When the silence became strained, he raised his eyes and found Odette considering him so wolfishly; it appeared she might be deciding whether he would make a decent meal or not.

Exhaling through his nose, the corners of his mouth puckered in, dipping down. 'Suppose _m’_ blasphemy will have her off tattlin’ to _Grand-mère_. Damn well, means I can expect ‘nother contrite lecture on how I am ambitiously carving _mon_ self a road to Lucifer’s kingdom.' Spinning the liquor, he watched it slide down the glass. ‘ _Toujours_ considered Mams held the blue ribbon at usin’ guilt for obedience. _Feu de l’enfer_ , she only picked up her skills at _Grand-mère’s_ elbow.’ Taking another sip and still feeling Odette’s eyes on him, he said, “ _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ , out with what you came for.”

“ _Maître_ Lafe, has not _une_ person instructed _vous_ it is wicked sinful to blasphemy?”

He rolled out a bitter laugh, thinking, ‘Yep, there it is.’ Except, seeing how serious she was, he swallowed his laughter. “ _Oui._ I have been informed. _De facto_ , Katharine frequently and fervently reprimands _moi_ with bible verses, and by glory, even Peter has jumped on that bandwagon. Mainly though, it has been _m’_ poor Mams who has had to bear the curse of culturin’ _moi_. She has railed and railed at _m’_ blasphemy and twitched _m’_ ears for it, more times than I wish to recollect.”

Odette’s eyes flew wide. ‘He must be fibbin'.’ she told herself. ‘What darkie would dare lay a hand on a white person?’

Taking no notice of her shocked expression, he drawled on, “ _Oui_ , Odette, I done been thoroughly educated on the matter.”

“Then why do _vous_ persist?”

“I suppose from habit,” Lafayette replied, shrugging his shoulders and taking another draw on his cigar. “Quite frankly, it comes rather naturally to _moi_.”

“Naturally?” she tilted her head, her eyes flicking over him. “ _Maître_ Lafe, I think not. _Vous_ is a child of _Dieu,_ and therefore, it is improper to claim blasphemy as natural.” She wavered a finger at him, “besides, it be _unlawful_ to commit blasphemy.”

“Well, Odette, that ain’t necessarily the truth,” Lafayette said, and with his dimples dancing, he went on in his best barrister voice. “In 1838, the case of Commonwealth vs. Kneeland determined blasphemy was and is not a criminal offense.” Lafayette grinned broadly, rolling the cigar between his teeth as he thought. ‘Impressive, how that verdict popped right up when I needed it. Suppose all the studyin’ is startin’ to settle in.’ Noticing the depth and darkness of Odette’s frown, he waggled his cigar in her direction. “Although, I do give you points on the whole child of _Dieu_ as part of your supposition.”

Odette looked to the garden.

Wearing a full Cheshire grin and hoping to further debate the issue, Lafayette stretched, hooking a barefoot on the railing.

Instead, Odette remained silent for so long his merriment withered along with his smile. ‘Ah, hell, perhaps I should apologize.’ He took another drink, and as he studied Odette’s profile, his mind shifted gears. ‘She must have been a rare _beauté,_ once. Her skin in this light is like the cream risin’ up in a fresh _café_.’ Pushing off the rail, he rocked his chair back on two legs. ‘Wonder _qu’elle_ she would say if’n I up and asked if she were a quadroon or an octoroon?’ His grin spread. 'I ain’t goin’ to, though. Despite her lack of faith in _m’_ upbringin’, I damn well know it is not respectable to question her lineage.’

Without looking back, Odette began speaking. “I know _vous_ be a _bonne_ man, _Maître_ Lafe.” Lowering her head to her raised hands, she intoned, “I do deeply grieve for your immortal soul. _S'il vous plaît_ , be most certain to speak of your desecrations at confession.”

Confident she was praying over him, Lafayette took in the sinful vices of smoke and liquor in his hands; feeling heat crawling beneath his skin, he inhaled, quietly lowering his chair back to the ground.

Except Odette was not praying. She was sifting through memories of Lafayette as a round-cheeked boy, ‘He was ever so clever and proper. A right smart _petit_ _monsieur,_ with so much humor; he delighted us all.’ Raising her head, she took in the cynical, sinful version sitting before her, and deep puckers appeared about her mouth. ‘Makes _moi_ wonder how much of that _garçon_ is even left?’ Closing her eyes, Odette swallowed firmly, and when she re-opened them, her eyes had a soft, moist look. “Strange, it was set in _m’_ mind _vous_ was the _bonne monsieur,_ and it was _Maître_ Taddy who went ‘round breaking every rule without a second thought. Could be, _m’_ memory be slipping?”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with your memory. _Mon_ Mams says, _‘anyone standin’ alongside Taddy appears to be an angel._ ’ See, he ain’t a _mal_ sort. He does not even _really_ try to be _mal_. Luck just seems to roll downhill for ‘em. I am damn thankful for his _bonne_ heart, or I do not know what would become of 'em.”

“Perhaps so,” Odette answered. “Still, I did not come up here to chide _vous,_ though _vous_ seems to bring it out in _moi_. I came to discover why _vous_ do not leave this _maison_ unless it is for classes at the University or to accompany the _mesdemoiselles_.”

Stubbing his cigar out in the ashtray, Lafayette replied, “Father charged _moi_ to attend university and above all, to be their sentry. So, as you can see, I am complyin’ with his orders.”

She nodded, looking back to the garden.

‘ _Chiant_!’ He inwardly cursed. ‘If’n only Father understood what followin’ his orders cost _moi_. _Jésus a pleuré,_ I have listened to elocution lessons, music lessons, posture lessons, and even more lessons. I swear, if’n a _fille_ has to suffer through all that _merde_ to become a respectable _mademoiselle_. I am twice as glad I am a _monsieur_.’ His face twisted into a snarl, ‘Then again, since I am a _monsieur,_ it falls on _moi_ to protect 'em, just as Father commanded.’

“ _Maître_ Lafe?” When he did not answer, Odette laid a hand on his leg, and he jumped like a horse kept in a stall too long. “The dressmaker is visiting today as _m’ Maîtresse_ has determined your _sœurs_ should have new _trousseaus_ , it would be an appropriate time for _vous_ to make yourself absent.”

Steepling his fingers together, Lafayette smiled flatly and even more flatly answered, “I shall ensure I keep out of sight.”

A sadness tinged her voice when she, softly, said, “ _Maître_ Lafe. . .”

His mouth twitched, one dimple pitting deeply as he canted his dark eyes her way, and for a fleeting moment, she saw his doubt, melancholy, and most importantly, his desire to be free. Stepping closer, she swallowed and clearly said, “You should allow yourself to leave, to find happiness.”

“Odette, _Feu de l’enfer_ , I already damn-well told you. I cannot, _m’_ Father charged _moi_ to be their sentry.” He waved his hand out over the garden. “So, here I am at _m_ _’_ post.”

An understanding dawned in her, and she cupped his chin in her palm, lifting his face. “I recall _vous_ as a _bébé_.” She smiled, seeing the memory. “when we all traveled back to Missouri, _vous_ was not more than six months, and already _vous_ was holding tight to anything firm enough to allow _vous_ to stand. If anyone picked _vous_ up, and _vous_ would squirm to be free, to explore, it was all _vous_ wanted. Miss Genni was swollen up with pride over _vous,_ and we all considered _vous_ the most _indépendant_ child any had ever seen. Now, _Lafe_ , _vous_ look _moi_ in the eyes and say _vous_ has changed so much.”

Her words made the binding constraints of duty even more suffocating, and he choked out, “I ain’t.”

“As I thought, _vous_ get yourself out of here, this hour!” She stroked his cheek before releasing him, “ _vous_ must leave this _maison_ before _vous_ loses your sanity.”

His eyes flickered with interest, and then he looked down.

“ _Chéri_ , think I do not hear _vous_ pacing the confines of this _chambre_ like an animal?”

He looked back up, misery showing wet in his eyes. “What of _m’_ _devoirs_ and obligations?”

“Your _Père_ ordered _vous_ to safeguard the _mesdemoiselles_ to New Orleans, and _vous_ has done that.” She placed her hands on her hips, smiling contritely at him, “ _vous_ does know _m’ Maîtresse_ has lived here, right here, most of her life, a _bonne_ deal of it without the _Maître_ being in the _maison_. In all that time, we _jamais_ required an unceasing sentinel.”

There was a lightening to his face as her words sank in.

“Come now, _qu’elle_ sort of _démons_ _vous_ imagine is going to crawl out of the parlor walls? Now, _Chéri_ finishes your dressing and leave here.”

‘Odette is correct.’ He thought, ‘I have been absurd. Father does not wish _moi_ to remain locked away.’ Seeing his foolishness and her rightness, he grasped her offered hand, and as he stood, life rushed back into his eyes.


	41. Chapter THIRTY-EIGHT

Chapter Thirty-Eight

" _Entrez_."

On entering, Odette found Lafayette brushing dust from his low, flat-crowned black hat, and without looking up, he asked, " _Qu'elle_ might I do for you?

"I spoke with _Maîtresse…"_ she paused. He had shaved, dressing to match the weight of his name, and tilting her head, she studied him, thinking, ‘he looks different than he has since arriving; something has changed.' Her eyes narrowed, 'hmm, whatever it may be, he, at last, has the bearing of a Begnoir.'

Raising wide, inquisitive eyes to her, Lafayette asked, "And….?"

At his boyish expression, she felt a rueful hitch in her chest. 'Life around here is preparing to change, and I am going to miss having him underfoot.' Removing a thick fold of currency from her pocket, Odette said, "I spoke with _Maîtresse,_ and she wished _moi_ to deliver this to _vous."_

Looking from Odette to the banknotes, he smiled as if he knew a joke she did not and then shook his head. "You, inform _m' Grand-mère_ I said, _merci beaucoup,_ all the same, I possess _m'_ own funds."

" _Mon Maîtresse_ said I was to have _vous_ understand… _vous_ are to have this, along with a weekly stipend."

Lafayette shook his head.

"She said it is as much yours as your _nom,_ and there be _non_ reason for _vous_ to ever go without."

Lafayette shook his head more forcefully.

Taking hold of his hand, Odette placed the bundle in his palm, " _Maître_ Lafe, _vous_ is going to discover Orleans be far more costly than Harrisonville. Furthermore, _m' Maîtresse_ said not _une_ soul is ever to have the possibility of hissing behind their hand, a single word, about a _monsieur_ of her line, ever being short of funds."

Lafayette raised an eyebrow, a frown forming on his mouth.

" _Vous_ wish to speak with her."

"Not really."

"Then put this in _vous_ wallet."

"I lost this dispute afore I had a chance to defend _mon_ self."

" _Vous_ did," Odette replied, waiting until he returned his wallet to his interior vest pocket. She then held out a key. "This here were _Maître_ Bueford's, it will open any lock on this here property."

Taking the long narrow skeleton key, he studied its shiny brass surface from each direction, thinking, 'I ain't ever held such a thing, doors at Sienna ain't ever locked.'

At the bemused smile taking over his face, Odette laughed, "See, we keep the doors locked here. That be why the _mesdemoiselles_ have _non_ need of a sentry. This key will open the side gate in the garden. _Vous,_ take your leave there." She pointed toward the veranda whose stairs led to the garden. "Then when _vous_ returns in the black of night, use the same route so as not to wake the _maison._ I will have Maeve leave a cold meal and light for _vous_ each night."

Lafayette's eyebrows arched.

"Do not be feignin' shock with _moi. Vous_ is not the first _monsieur_ I have seen too. The _Vieux Carré_ has many enjoyments to entertain _vous_." She nodded, "Too many, and when _vous_ is absent, I will make your excuses afore _dîner_ is served."

Turning the key over again, Lafayette bit his lip and then sprang across, giving Odette a quick peck on the cheek, was out the glass doors and down the staircase. Facing the tall iron and wood gate, he smiled hugely, and tearing the ivy away; he unlocked it. Looking once over his shoulder, he then shoved on the long, unused gate, forcing it open.

Stepping from the garden onto _rue de_ Orleans, he became a citizen of the _Vieux_ _Carré._ His nights and days swirled together as his spirit intertwined with the festive, boisterous vitality of the Crescent City. Although it was not just the town that delighted him, but the people. He took time to chat with merchants and mince playful words with ladies. He delighted in the glib stories of minstrels and the open candor of men who worked the docks. In short order, there was no locality within the _Vieux Carré_ , where he did not know someone by name.

He no longer displayed petulant mood swings when home, his sharp cynicism disappeared, and his robust laughter filled the house, infecting all with his mirth. He regaled his family with humorous tales while doling out the latest gossip and showering the entire household with _lagniappes_.

Free to be himself, he still spent a measure of his time studying law at Tulane University and, per his Grandmother's request, began accompanying the lawyers in overseeing the Begnoir-Bueford estates. He enjoyed the challenge and was amazed by the extensive land tracts and properties owned by the Begnoirs. Managing the profits and channeling them into further developments became a perfect backdrop for his barrister schooling.

The boardrooms filled with long tables buried beneath legal documents and the cigar smoke of powerful men made his pulse pound as so did the twisted political games these men employed either over drinks in the St. Louis bar or on the open fairways near the docks.

Yet each day, once free of obligations, without fail, Lafayette made for Exchange Alley. A district where celebrated fencing instructors held classes, with competitions occurring around the clock. The sport had become his new passion, and it required an all-together different use of the muscles he had developed as an equestrian. Ever demanding of himself, Lafayette would train until sweat rolled from his aching body, and competing became his utmost thrill, thoroughly enjoying the agility of using both his mind and body to outfox an opponent.

Some days, though, he would rent a horse and ride to a racetrack, most often Metairie. Here he would walk the stables, trying to calm his soul that had reached a pinnacle where it was demanding to be near horses. Despite all his adoration for the _Veux Carré,_ when these days came, Lafayette longed desperately for Sienna and his old simple life of training horses.

When his heart ached painfully for home, the only cure was to bury himself in the audacious night of the _Carré._ Following the subtle glow of the gas lanterns, he would search out operas, play productions, dancing halls, and octoroon balls, along with saloons and sporting houses. However, what Lafayette adored most was how a man's social caste meant little; as monied gentleman and dock workers alike trimmed up and turned out for the glittery, musical, nocturnal carnival that went on until dawn's breaking light.

On his travels, he determined, the middle of the row establishments far more suited his tastes. He savored all they had, preferring their toe-tapping negro music and their casually attired women, who came in an assortment of hues from pearly white to darker than the night itself. Furthermore, these places allowed him to be himself, just a simple Missourian who enjoyed playing poker.

He and his pals had played extensively back home, honing him into a skilled, proficient player. On account of this, it did not take long for him to gain a reputation of playing with wit and grit while still being easygoing, no matter how large the pot. So, in the end, it was a skill he had brought from home that finished maturing and rounding him out, allowing him to be both a Missouri and Louisiana gentleman all at the same time.

Although the most important lesson he learned in those early weeks was of stature. If a person had any, then they and their family were gossiped over, without end. Therefore, the merest slip in etiquette could circle the parish before a person even realized they had made a lapse. Accordingly, as if by magic, Lafayette began practicing the lessons Simone had endlessly hounded him with, the same ones he had sworn were worthless, and now he realized he owed her a monumental favor of gratitude.

As time passed, he still missed Missouri, and his deep connection with Sienna tugged at him. However, the painful loneliness that had initially plagued him was gone. Whereas it had once felt unnatural not having Thaddeus by his side, he had learned to walk alone, and now, more often than not, he wished his brother were here, not for comfort, but so he might share in this or that experience. More to the point, the _Vieux_ _Carré_ had begun to feel like home. Enough so that he believed along with his Creole name, his Mother had also gifted her adoration for her Creole home to him, and as a result, he began questioning if he could even return to his rural Cass County life.

While he might be deliberating where he belonged, the Creoles had already accepted him. His Creole lineage had laid the framework, but it was his sagacity, vibrant character, charisma, and striking, dark looks that had secured his position.

Regularly, society ladies questioned one another if they had spoken with him, and those who had bragged over their encounter. So, as natural as breathing, he had become infamous about the parish, and once more, matriarchs were chattering what a brilliant addition Lafayette Begnoir-Crowe would make to any family.


	42. Chapter THIRTY-NINE

Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Monday 21 st November 1859**

Waking to the sound of soft tiptoeing, Gabriel frowned and scrubbed at his short-cropped hair just as a tiny voice said, “ _Gran Frère_?”

“ _Qu’elle_ do you need?”

“For you to help us.”

Rolling over, Gabriel blinked at Eudora, shivering next to his bed like the last autumn leaf clinging to a tree. “Land sakes, _fille_ , you are goin' to catch your death. Climb on in here,” he said, lifting the heavy blankets, so she could scurry in and then clamping them down fast to prevent Patches from hopping in with her. “ _Non,_ _chien_ , not you.”

Squirming about, she planted a bony elbow in his belly.

“Ouch! Hey!”

“ _Excusez-moi.”_ she giggled, rolling around searching for a comfortable spot until, at length, he seized her in an enormous bear hug.

“Hold still, will ya. All your buckin' is lettin’ the heat out.”

She purred, “mmm, it is warm in here,” snuggling her thin body closer to him.

“Glad you think so. I ain’t so warm with an ice sickle all stuck up ‘gainst _moi_.”

“You want _moi_ to move?”

“ _Non!_ Be still,” Gabriel answered, not wishing to defend himself from her elbows and knees again.

She lay still for a bit and then rolled over to face him, “today is hog day.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Listen, you can hear the pots and tools being hauled out.”

She was correct; he could hear the clang of metal-on-metal behind the house.

“Pretty soon, Mams will set to hollerin’ everyone up. _Moi_ , I do not sleep much since Taddy had _maladie_. So, I heard ‘er when she got up.”

Nodding along, listening to her sweet voice, Gabriel thought, ‘Been a damn long while since any part of this family has cared to be this close to _moi_. Most times, it feels like they got _moi_ up on a rail fence, scrutinizin’ _moi_ like I am an outsider.’ As a comfortable silence wrapped around them, he shifted, exhaling softly, allowing sleep to reclaim him.

“He said I would be wastin’ _m’_ time askin’ you.”

Yawning, Gabriel asked, “who said that, _Chérie_?”

“Taddy.”

“That mean he is sayin’, I got the option of not assistin’?” Gabriel asked.

She stiffened, and he did not need to see her face to know her lips were pinched in a straight line with her brows bunched up tighter than a clump of dried clay.

“Never you mind, _fille_. Go on and tell _moi_ exactly what Squirt had to say.”

“Well, he said…” She looked off, and then with a smile, her eyes darted back to Gabriel. “He said you was too proud and pissed off. Oops!” She squeaked, cringing.

“Go on. It will be our secret.”

“ _Promesse_?”

“Cross _m’_ heart.”

He felt her nod, “well, Taddy, he said, you were too proud, and there was _non_ way in...” she squirmed, “uhm, I ain’t supposed to say that _une._ Anyways, he then said he t’weren’t comin' in here and givin’ you the chance to tell ‘em to...” Her mouth twisted to the side, “Uhm, I really ain’t supposed to say that _une_."

Gabriel could feel his anger beginning to flare.

"Gabe, I ain’t really able to tell you exactly what Taddy said.”

“I cannot believe he spouts such filth ‘round you?” Gabriel snarled, biting off his words. “I oughta tan that _garçon's_ hide.”

"It do not bother _moi_ none.”

“Just the same, it bothers _moi_. Bothers _moi_ quite a bit! Squirt should have better manners around a _mademoiselle_.”

A loud snort burst from Eudora, “I ain’t _non mademoiselle_. Sides, him cursin’ just be how Taddy be.”

Gabriel’s face shifted to a disgusted scowl.

Her voice all a quiver, she pleaded, “ _S'il vous plaît,_ do not flatten 'em.”

“Should have lessoned ‘em in a dose of civility afore now?”

Sitting up, Eudora let the covers fall from her shoulders, “you do not understand...” her voice became more strident, “I do not want you to tan 'em. Taddy speaks straight and shares all things with _moi_. I am his bestest _ami_ , and he is mine. I do not want you harming 'em.”

“All right, Dora, I will not lay 'em out.”

Heaving a sigh, she dropped next to him, planting a big kiss on his cheek, “ _Merci_.”

“It must be fine havin’ someone who is _toujours_ up-front with you.”

“It is.” She replied, and after staying silent for a spell, she squeezed Gabriel’s arm, “I know, I ain’t right in the head.” He started to interrupt her, “ _Non_! Hesh up. ‘Cause, I know it. I also know when I am fibbed too. Taddy, he does not fib." She grinned sheepishly, " not to _moi,_ anyway.”

“That must be nice.”

She nodded happily.

Gabriel nodded back, wistfully saying, “Wish I had someone to treat _moi_ so straightforward.”

Sitting up, again, Eudora replied, “Why that is easy.”

“Come ‘gain?”

“I said, that is easy. I will never fib to you. But…” In the early dawn light, he was amazed how composed her face became, “You cannot fib to _moi_. Not ever. And, you ain’t allowed to storm off without finishin' a talk.”

“Why, Dora, it is a deal.”

“Shake on it?” She said, spitting into her hand and holding it out to him.

Seeing how solemn she was, Gabriel laughed, and sitting up; he spat in his palm.

Just before she grabbed hold, her brows scrunched, giving her a stern look of the likes he had never seen before, “Gabriel Matthew Antonio Maximillian, I am serious, you do not take _m’_ hand unless you plan on livin' up to your end.”

His mouth fell open.

"Well?"

"Who told you _m’_ full _nom_??"

She rolled her eyes, "Are you goin' shake or not?"

There was a determined sincerity about her that shocked him, and swallowing, he took her hand in a solid grip, “I will hold _m’_ end, Eudora Lorraine, 'till _m’_ dyin' day, I swear I will.”

The firmness stayed with her as she shook back, saying, “I too, Gabriel Matthew will hold _m’_ end. Now, you ready for _m’_ first truth?”

“Sure, why not,” he said, thinking, ‘how _mal_ can it be?’

“You come on downstairs. You acts like you be a part of this _famille,_ and while you are at it, you break off being so full of yourself.”

“I can see you are _bonne_ at this.”

“Got lots of practice, look who _m_ _’_ twin is.” She grinned, downright resembling her male counterpart. “So, you goin' be helpin’ out?”

“Of course, I will.”

“ _Bonne_! ‘Cause, I got to get dressed and tear Taddy out of bed.”

“I will get 'em movin'.”

She turned, eyeballing him.

Throwing up his hands, he gave in before the fight started. “I already said I would not harm 'em.”

She still looked suspicious, “yeah, but you said that before we shook.”

“I will not flatten ‘em. Happy?”

Leaning in, she planted an elbow in his ribs, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek, “See you downstairs, pal.”

When the sliding doors between his and Lafayette’s room parted, Thaddeus twisted to see what was happening, thinking, ‘what the hell? They ain’t moved, an inch, since Lafe rode out.’

“Perdition, I figured you slept harder,” Gabriel grumbled, the inner corners of his eyebrows angling up. “ _Feu de l'enfer_ , Squirt, I was all set to route you out of bed, and you have gone and knocked all the damn fresh off _m’_ plans.” Suddenly, a sly sneer came to his face, “Then again, you are still in bed.” He flexed his fingers, “I wonder…”

“Do not come near _moi_!” Thaddeus howled, struggling to free himself of his blankets. “I fuckin’ mean it, Gabe. You stay back!”

Releasing a wild laugh, Gabriel leapt, landing on Thaddeus with his fingers digging into his brother’s underarms and rib cage.

A shriek pealed from Thaddeus, and he began shouting, “ _Non_! Stop! _NON_!” between squeals of laughter until he landed on the floor with a bang. Jumping to his feet, he raced backward, the shock of the attack making him look years younger.

Dropping on the bed and rolling onto his back, Gabriel placed his hands behind his head, “Damnation, Squirt, if’n you ain’t still as ticklish as you were in knee britches.”

“ **I do not give a fuck! T** hat was uncalled for and...” Thaddeus huffed, trying to catch his breath. “and undignified to boot.”

“Aw, _feu de l'enfer_ , do not know what you are worried about? There ain’t _une_ dignified bone in your whole damn body. Now, shake a leg, we got hogs to slaughter.”


	43. Chapter FORTY

Chapter Forty

Pouring a cup of coffee, Gabriel sociably said, “Mornin’ Marie.”

Her head popped up from her work.

Watching her across the rim of his cup while taking a sip, he surfaced, saying, “You keep starin' slack-jawed at _moi,_ you are liable to catch yourself a bug.”

Shaking herself, she returned to cutting biscuits from the dough spread across the table, “Mornin’ to you, Mister Gabe.”

“By Dickens, it sure is sharp out there,” Webster said, coming in from outside, rubbing his hands together and heading straight for the stove. While pouring a cup of coffee, he spied Gabriel and exploded into a toothy grin. “ _Bonjour_.”

Gabriel and Webster were born only days apart and were a matched pair. Both stood six-foot-four in their bare feet and were as wide as draft horses at the shoulder. Being the first children born to Sienna’s Great House, they had been trading confidences since well before they ever knew their skin color set them apart.

Downing what remained in his cup, Gabriel placed it on the corner of the table, “suppose you would not say _non_ to some assistance.”

"Not in the least," Webster answered, just as Peter and Simone came in with a chilly breeze swirling into the room with them.

Hanging up her shawl, Simone eyed the pair she still saw as boys, and laying a more severe look on Gabriel, muttered, “Will wonders _jamais_ cease.”

"Come now, Mams, you make it sound like I ain’t ever here to assist at all."

"Then how ‘bout I just declare that I _amour vous_ too much to have that discussion." She replied, wrapping a scarf around Gabriel’s neck as he finished buttoning his coat.

Once Webster and Gabriel were out and the door shut behind them, Peter shook his head, “I were not expectin' to see hide nor hair of ‘em.”

Simone said, "be _bonne_ he is. We shall be requirin’ all the strength this place has this day.”

Walking into the cozy, brightly lit kitchen, Antonio yawned, stretching his arms over his head, “mornin’ all.”

“Mornin' Mister,” Peter replied, lifting the coffee pot. “Like a cup?”

“Would hit the spot,” Antonio answered, moving a chair well away from where Marie was still cutting biscuits. “So, Peter, how many hogs have you fasted for butcherin’?”

“Four good-sized ones.”

Taking a slow drink of his coffee, Antonio closed his eyes, figuring poundage, “You reckon we will be necessitating that much meat?”

“We still have plenty of mouths to feeds ‘bout here.” Simone put in, not looking up from fitting biscuits into baking pans. ‘And, do nots be forgettin' Taddy _Garçon,_ eats enough for _trois_.”

Flicking the last button closed on his vest, Thaddeus entered on that statement and wailed, “I cannot help it none.”

Peter smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “and, I have not one inkling where it all goes.”

“I figures he uses it to fire up all the mischief he gets in,” Simone answered with a knowing nod. “Mmm-hmm, that be exactly what I thinks.”

Leaning in, Thaddeus kissed her cheek. “Yeah, but you _amours moi_ anyways.” Squeezing by her to get to the coffeepot, he pinched a wad of biscuit dough, popping it in his mouth.

“Get your mitts out of _m’_ pastry,” Simone chided, elbowing him.

A laugh as rich and warm as the coffee he was pouring rolled from Thaddeus.

Simone smiled adoringly at him until she noticed how liberally he was knocking brown sugar into his cup, and the smile disappeared.

Rolling out a doe-eyed look of innocence, he asked, “too much??”

“I swear I am goin’ cuts your sugar rations to nuthin’ _fils_.”

Flashing his chipped tooth grin, he took a sip, “ _vous_ would not do that to _moi.”_ He circled by Marie, “and even if’n you do, Marie _Chèr_ would still let _moi_ in the larder for sugar.’ Having boasted this, he gave Marie a peck on the cheek, and when she jumped away with a squeal, he snatched a wad of biscuit dough.

Thumping Thaddeus on the shoulder, Peter growled, “Thaddeus Robert, mind your manners.”

With a shrug, Thaddeus mumbled about his full mouth, “ _mes apologies_ , Marie.” Yet, he still moved in to steal another pinch.

This time Simone lightly rapped his knuckles with a wooden spoon, “ _vous_ best cease!”

A smile played about the corners of his eyes and mouth at the same time.

“Uh Huh, do not be testin' _moi_." She waggled the spoon, "fact is _vous_ gets out of _m’_ kitchen afore _vous_ forces _moi_ to injures _vous, Garçon_.”

Pulling Thaddeus’ coat from its hook, Antonio called, “pay attention,” tossing it at him and turning for his own, he saw Gabriel's was missing and inwardly growled, 'Damn ‘em, he as slipped off again and just when he might be of assistance.'

Trotting down the back stairs, Antonio’s blood simmered over Gabriel’s laziness. However, the sun peeking over the ridge to tint their valley a cherry gold pulled him up, and he stood enjoying the view. ‘Might ‘en as well not let ‘em rile me.’ Antonio thought, ‘not like it will do me any good.' Exhaling a puff of air, he shoved his hands in his pockets, taking the trail out toward the empty slave cabins; when he came to a halt so fast, Thaddeus slammed right into him.

Stumbling back and scowling darkly at his Father, Thaddeus side stepped around him.

Gabriel hollered, “‘bout time, Squirt.”

Antonio turned a pure dumbstruck expression to Thaddeus, who only shrugged and kept on for his brother and Webster.

Gabriel laughed out, “was considerin’ headin’ back in and draggin’ your slow ass out.”

"Ain’t _non fuckin’ way_ in Hell, you would have achieved such an action, _Gran Frère_."

"That so, Squirt,” Gabriel replied, dumping water in the scalding pot. “I am thinkin'; I would. _Qu’elle_ you think, Web?”

"I be thinkin'. I do not wish to be brought in on this,” Webster snapped. “You seem to be forgettin'..." he pointed at Thaddeus with his chin while feeding wood to the fire; "... he bites!"

" _Jésus a pleuré_ , I ain't bit anyone in years."

"Predation! You mean we done broke you of _une mal_ habit.” Gabriel winked to Webster, ‘ _par Dieu_ , perhaps he is trainable."

Scrunching his face, Thaddeus flashed his middle finger, which brought forth a hardy round of laughter from the pair he considered, both, to be his elder brothers.

Swallowing his utter surprise at Gabriel’s presence and wanting to be part of their banter, Antonio jovially asked, “You used to lower yourself to bitin’?”

Thaddeus froze, canting an eye toward his father.

Grunting a disgusted snort, Gabriel called, “come on out, Squirt.”

As the two went to retrieve more water, Webster pumped the bellows until the fire beneath the massive, scalding cauldron was roaring and then moved on, lighting a fire under each smaller boiling kettle. Ensuring, when needed, there would be hot replacement water for the scalding pot.

By the time, all the pots were bubbling, Antonio and Peter approached herding an impressive red swine who was grunting its displeasure.

Handing, Gabriel a small-bore musket, Antonio said, “You go on and take the shot.” Antonio had thought on this, and hoped by offering his son the task, it would illustrate his trust and respect. For everyone knew a misplaced shot could rattle around in a hog’s skull pan, merely injuring the beast, and there was not anyone in the hills who could not impart a horrific tale of damage done by an injury maddened hog, both to property and men.

Gabriel’s shot dropped the hog where it stood, and to illustrate his level of respect, Gabriel ignored his father’s extended hand to lay the musket on a nearby porch.

Stepping in, Webster sliced the hog’s jugular vein, and a radiant stream of blood gushed across the frosty ground. Avoiding the expanding pool, he deftly cut each rear leg gambrel tendon, hooking them over the singletree.

Looking at each other, Gabriel and Thaddeus shucked out of their coats, tossing them aside; as the scalding pot fire was already warming them and grasping the winch ropes attached to the singletree, they heaved; hoisting the hog until it hung above the bubbling pot. Then, with great care, they lowered the beast into the water.

“Fire and brimstone,” Gabriel grunted, “he must be close to three-hundred-pounds.”

“Aw, he ain’t that damn heavy,” Thaddeus replied, winking at Webster. “Conceivably, _Gran Frère,_ you are just gettin' old and soft.”

Gabriel’s nose wrinkled, “Squirt, I will work your scrawny, _petit_ ass into the ground afore this days' done.”

“Wanna wager on it?”

“A pair of cartwheels says I will have your ass pantin’ in the shade.”

Thaddeus rolled his eyes, scoffing, “you damn skinflint, make it gold, not silver, and I will fuckin’ school you.”

“That so?”

“Fuckin’ right.”

Gabriel leaned forward, laying a twisted sneer on his brother, “you damn-well best have the coin when it comes time to pay up. I ain’t gonna abide you welchin’ on _moi._ ”

Thaddeus' brows dropped low, a muscle popping in his jaw, and seeing him so, Simone, who had just walked up, frowned. “ _Qu’elle_ be goin’ on?” They both looked quick to her, and her frown turned forbidding, “if’n _vous_ is wagerin’…” she waggled the scraping knives she was holding, at them, “…then _vous_ knock it off afore _vous_ get started.” Laying the blades on an upended log next to a hatchet, she snapped, “Now, gets to haulin' that hog outs afore them bristles set.”


	44. Chapter FORTY-ONE

Chapter Forty-One

“Hellfire, but look at my boys, Peter.” Antonio boasted, taking a drink of his coffee while watching his sons pack pork into salt barrels. “Pair of 'em made short work of the butcherin’.”

Peter also sat watching, watching close through squinted eyes.

“I had no concept they were so steadfast,” Antonio said, popping Peter on the shoulder. “Makes a man, awfully proud, it does.”

Scratching the side of his neck, Peter’s old, yellow-stained eyes shifted from Gabriel to Thaddeus.

Taking another drink, Antonio studied the silent, older man from the slant of his eye, and with a snort, he said, “all right, gives me the straight of it.”

“Ain’t anything you wish to hear.”

Antonio took another drink, not feeling as cheerful as he considered what Peter might not be saying. As he was doing so, Thaddeus stripped out of his shirt, throwing it aside like a field hand. Shaking his head, Antonio grumbled, “Swear that boy ain’t got a lick of polite propriety or morals to ‘em.”

Yet, as he rose to chastise Thaddeus, he froze and stared, truly seeing his youngest for the first time, and a darkness filled his face. “Why in the hell is…” he jabbed a finger toward Thaddeus, “he muscled out tighter than a five-hundred-dollar buck?” 

“I done been tellin’ you all through the years, there ain’t a type of labor, on this here place, your three ain’t done.”

“I always understood they worked.” He looked again to his son, “but not like that… not like a field hand.” He snorted, his nostrils flaring, “Are they all beefed out like that?”

Peter inhaled deeply and nodded.

“Why in the name of God, did you not put a halt to ‘em pushin’ themselves, ‘till they no longer resembled gentlemen?!”

“Lands sakes, Mister. . .” Peter rubbed at his forehead. “You think I did not remind ‘em they be the young masters, and it t’weren’t their place to work like a slave.”

Antonio paced back and forth, his breathing coming in stifled breaths.

“My sayin’ anything only got me lectures on the evils of slavery, and then they would go on…” Peter stood, shaking a hand toward the brothers, “… and work themselves harder than any slave you ever bought."

Antonio turned, his eyes searching Gabriel and Thaddeus.

"And, you never noticed… ‘till now!”

“Appears not,” Antonio answered, more to himself than anything.

“Blazes, Mister, they done it all for your attention.”

Going back through memories of being home, Antonio could see his boys bragging on their bruises, calluses, and the work they had done. Hearing them had made him gratified; they were not being raised to be dainty upper-crusts, and they knew what work was, still he thought. ‘Suppose I should have looked more into what they were sayin’.’

Dropping in his chair, Peter released a tired sigh that sounded like brittle leaves rustling in a corner. “Right ‘bout now, Mister, we got us a worse problem.”

Antonio looked down at his overseer and friend.

“They done placed a wager. Not sure when, but me and Simone, we do not let ‘em wager, not never.”

Tilting his head to the side, Antonio licked his lower lip, “I do not see the problem there.”

“They all just take competition too seriously. They get relentless and will not stop.” Peter looked imploringly to Antonio, “It is like they lose any sense they got.”

Antonio shrugged, and at the movement, Peter’s eyes turned cold as midnight in December. “You plannin’ on stayin’ round this time, Mister?”

Antonio frowned, “what do you mean?”

“I got me an idea; you finally settled that grief inside you, and you ain’t plannin’ to be gone for months on end no more.”

A half-smile lifted Antonio’s mustache, and he nodded, “you are correct.”

“Then, old friend, I needs you to understand somethin'." Peter looked to Webster, Gabriel, and Thaddeus, his eyes taking on a shine. “I never had no children of my own. These children of Sienna, I sure do love ‘em. They all been the joy of my life.”

Antonio’s gut tightened, for in Peter’s tone, he heard a loving, closeness he had not achieved.

“It pains me to speak ill of any of ‘em, but you need to know. The boys, they got them a terrible temper, it makes ‘em lash out when they is pushed, sometimes they nots even needs to be pushed at all.”

Recalling his confrontation with Gabriel, Antonio took a step backward.

A sadness came to Peter’s face, and he quietly said, “Gabe, he showed you that, did he not?”

Just barely, Antonio nodded.

Setting his coffee cup on the ground, Peter rubbed his hands together. “You wanted the straight of it, and I shall give it to you. When them boys begin a task, they do not stop, and that includes fightin’. Why you take, Lafe…” He flung a hand out like motioning to the past. “tryin' to crush the life out of that Yankee, right there in front of God and everyone. You went on and on, ‘bout how odd you thought it was for 'em to do such a thing.” A dry laugh burst from Peter, “Well, it t’weren’t.”

Antonio retook his seat.

“I cannot count the times; I have pulled them out of brawls and why… ‘cause they will not stop.” He sighed, sounding tired to the bone, “Best I achieved, over the years, was trainin’ all of ‘em to keep their damn tempers reined in.” He spat on the ground, “also learned that meant keepin’ em out of wagers. They ain’t poor losers, they are just damn relentless and do not suffer idiots or disrespect.” Jabbing a finger toward the brothers, Peter said, “now we have a wager goin’ on.”

“You figure they are goin’ to wind up fightin’?”

“I know they will, ‘cause they is both awful good at mockery and snideness.” Peter snorted loudly, “And, when Gabe lets go, he do not care who he hurts and Taddy...” Peter laughed dryly, “you do not know that boy.” His smile was almost ghoulish, “You do not! When Taddy lets loose, thunderation, it be a sight to make Satan proud.”

Antonio swallowed hard and feeling another wall of his pride crumbling down, asked, “With your experience, how do you deem this will go?”

A stingy, callous laugh leaked from Peter, “My Taddy boy, ain’t broke loose in a few months... I figure he will start it.” He canted an eye at Antonio, “unless _you_ can put a halt to it."

"Me?! What am I to do?"

“You put an end to it by judgin’ the winner.”

“Do not deem they will want that,” Antonio replied, fidgeting with the cuff of his coat. “’Specially, since Gabe and I are not... sociable at present.”

“Sociable? Is that what you be callin' it?” Peter shook his head. “Mister, they be wantin’ you to say who did the most, who did best.”

Setting his cup down, Antonio stood up.

“And, not only that, them boys been keepin’ score.” Peter sucked air through the hole where his canine tooth once sat. “And, you been helpin’ em.”

Antonio’s nose wrinkled, and he muttered, “do not recall doin’ that.”

“How ‘bout you tellin’ Taddy, he amazed you by his speed and efficiency?”

“Well, he did do his fair share, maybe more.” Antonio looked down over his shoulder at Peter. “You think it would go a long way between him and me, if’n I proclaim ‘em the winner?”

“It would.” Peter stood. “Ceptin’ you are not goin’ to do it.”

Antonio looked over sharp.

“You do, and Gabe will latch tight to all, he informed you, during y’alls disagreement.” Peter took a drink from his coffee and threw out the grounds. “And, I ain’t thinkin’ you are ready to wash your hands of him, yet, are you?”

Antonio shook his head, pulling at his lower lip.

“Take it you are seein’ how you set yourself up, now?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I done complimented Gabe, too, when he was choppin’ meat from the hangin’ carcass.”

Peter’s voice dropped low, “and joined in on the teasin’ of Taddy, for not helpin’ out there.”

“Well, hell, Peter, that gives my rulin’ for Gabe to win foundation.” Antonio turned to look at the older man standing by him. “We both know that is damn hard work, the type that wears a man down, and Tad should have assisted more.”

Crossing his arms, Peter glared at the ground before him, “you do realize, the hogs was tied off too high for Taddy to reach.”

“And, Tad assisted in tying 'em. The boy should have set the height lower, if’n he wanted to win.”

Closing his eyes, Peter sighed. “You are goin’ to have to learn these boys better.” Hearing no response, Peter looked up to find Antonio glaring at him, and a bitter laugh that held no humor rolled from Peter. “You mad at me or yourself?”

Antonio looked away.

“Take a real look at Taddy; he has been plagued by the others regardin’ his height, most his life.” Peter’s voice sounded hard, almost commanding. “You ever ask yourself why Gabe calls 'em Squirt?”

"Had not thought on it.”

“Does not surprise me none.”

Antonio’s nostrils flared, “Mind your place, Peter.”

“I am.” Peter replied, “You wanted it straight, so I be givin’ you want you asked for.”

“Still...” Antonio nodded toward Thaddeus, “he was more concerned over being deviled than doin’ his share, in my book, that makes Gabe the winner." He nodded, placing his hands behind his back, "that damn boy needs to learn when to swallow his pride in order to get a job done. This will be an excellent lesson for ‘em.”

“Ha! You go right on and inform Taddy how he should have swallowed his pride. Prove that boy correct, he already fully believes there ain’t anything he can do right in your eyes.”

Flinging his hands out, at all around him, Antonio exclaimed, “Good God almighty, then, what am I to do?”

“You are goin’ tell 'em how proud you are, and you are goin’ let ‘em know, _in your book_ , they each won.” Peter leaned closer with a twisted, evil smile, “then you will award each of ‘em a pair of double eagles.”

“You mean I am to lose forty damn dollars on a wager those two started.”

“Want to earn your boys respect or hang on to your money?”

Antonio grunted.

Peter snorted, spitting on the ground. “Go on and do what you like. ‘Cept it keeps up about here, as it has been, and I will lay money that one, or both of 'em will runoff.” He looked to Antonio, his face a mask of anger. “You have made mistakes since comin’ back here to live year-round. The worst was sending Lafe away, he is a part of this place and him being gone, somehow upsets the balance.” He pointed to Simone, working the lard rendering kettles, “She knew it would, that is why she was so dead set against 'em goin’ to Kentucky?”

Retreating from the fury simmering from Peter, Antonio nearly wrecked into Eudora, who was scratching Patches’ floppy ears. He smiled at her, unable to keep from wondering, ‘how much did she heard or for that matter, even understands.’

“You blame all that is wrong on Taddy.” She said, looking down into Patches’ adoring eyes. “You are wrong to do so. You also say he is nothing but a joker, that ain’t Taddy, it is Lafe, and his humor kept ‘em all getting along.”

Antonio stared at her; somehow, she appeared unlike herself, and when she looked up, despite her green eyes, he felt it was Gena Lorraine glowering at him, the way she would when her fires were stoked.

“You made them hate you, you _forced_ Lafe off Sienna.” She shook her head the tiniest bit, “You forced Lafe to leave, and now, you best fix this.”

Exhaling, long and slow, he looked from her to Peter to his sons and walked off to the house.


	45. Chapter FORTY-TWO

Chapter Forty-Two

‘Got to give the old man credit,’ Gabriel thought, ‘having this steam house built was one of his grander ideas.’ Cupping his hands behind his head, he laid back on the cedar bench, releasing a long sigh. ‘ _Jésus a pleuré_ , when did Squirt become so all-fired tough? Despite his size, he came near workin’ _moi_ under the table.” Canting his eyes across the room to where Thaddeus sat, with his head lolled back against the wall and his arms hanging down loose, a smug grin tugged at Gabriel's face. ‘Grateful to see, he is, at least, exhausted.’

After laying there a good while, Gabriel sat up, and adding more water to the steam pit, he unbuckled his saddlebags, removing a whiskey bottle. Taking a long drink, he eyed the flat, squarish bottle, and shrugged, “Squirt.”

Thaddeus’ head popped up, and he accepted the bottle. “ _Merci.”_ Tilting it back, he sucked long rushes of the rye mash down. Until at last, he lowered the bottle and dragging a bare forearm across his mouth; he squinted at his brother, trying to judge his mood. As he did, a corner of his mind said, ‘you would do best to stay quiet.’ Did not matter, the whiskey had loosened his tongue, and before he could stop himself, he was speaking. “Hey, Gabe, you notice how damn strange Father’s been, ever since you laid out the truth on 'em."

Deep wrinkles appeared about the corners of Gabriel’s eyes, and he motioned for his bottle back. “How so?”

“You ain’t been noticin’?”

“You brought it up, so say what you got to say.”

Thaddeus' dark brows tangled into a knot. “Before I do, I need another drink.”

Swirling the whiskey, Gabriel frowned at how little was left, "Do not feel you got enough, the first time?"

"Nope," Thaddeus held his hand out.

With a snort, Gabriel took a drink before placing the bottle in Thaddeus’ open palm.

Throwing his head back, Thaddeus drank it dry.

“When did you convert to such an almighty drinker?”

“They say it is an acquired taste. Let us say; I damn-well acquired it rapidly.” Thaddeus answered, turning the empty bottle, watching the flickering firelight through the glass. “I like the way it makes _m’_ days easier and nights more restful.”

“Squirt, I cannot fathom what is so damn problematical about your existence,” Gabriel said, waving his hands about the steamy room, both knowing he was gesturing beyond the rock walls to the wealth of Sienna surrounding them.

A hard bitterness broke free inside of Thaddeus, and he snarled, “Then I will fuckin’ tell you. It is _m’_ father.”

Gabriel's nose wrinkled, “you mean our father.”

Thaddeus shrugged.

Flipping back the flap on his saddlebag, Gabriel selected one of the two remaining bottles nestled there and pulling the cork, took a long draw. “Go on.”

“Our ever adorin’ _father_ makes _m’_ fuckin' existence problematical, you might not realize it, but he loathes _moi._ ”

“How in the hell did you come up with such a twisted notion?”

“Why that is fuckin' easy.” Thaddeus snapped his fingers, holding out his hand, and Gabriel passed over the bottle. Taking a quick drink, Thaddeus said, “the fuckin' way he looks at _moi_.” He took another swig, “the fuckin' way he speaks to _moi_.” He took another, slouching back against the wall. “Hell, I figure he prefers it was _moi_ lying in the _famille_ plot.”

Silence stretched tight between them, and about the time Gabriel thought Thaddeus had passed out, an agonized sob broke the quiet. “Ah, hell! Squirt, that--”

“Father cannot stand the sight of _moi_.” Thaddeus garbled through another sob. “See, I killed ‘er . . . and . . .” his face crumpled making him look more like a child. “And, I am positive Dora is the way she is ‘cause of _moi_.”

"Come on, Squirt, none of that is ‘cause of you."

"Shows what you know." Thaddeus snarled and standing; he spat in the coals. “See, I fuckin’ heard it straight from him, right from his mouth."

" _Qu’elle_?!"

"We was ridin’ in the carriage, it was late, and we were comin’ home from some damn get-together. Everyone was asleep, ‘cept Father, and he was drinkin’ from his flask, talkin’ to himself. Except, I t'weren't asleep neither. I heard every fuckin’ word."

Licking his lips, Gabriel thought, ‘I should stop ‘em.’ Instead, he snatched the bottle back, feeling he needed to be far drunker, for the wound Thaddeus was determined to pick open.

“He was mutterin’ about _moi_ killin’ her and havin’ to be cut out of her." Thaddeus swayed drunkenly, " and then he started askin’ _Dieu_ why he took her and not the _bébés_ like he had done the other times.” He smudged a hand across his face, “he never wanted _moi,_ and that damn old man never gives _moi_ a break... not fuckin’ ever. If'n he ain’t passin' fuckin' judgment over _moi_ than he is knockin’ _moi_ about.” With a snort, he inhaled his tears, falling back to his seat.

The small room filled again with silence until a log exploded, becoming a dozen red-hot coals, each hissing, and living a life apart from the rest. Watching the darting red-bits snuff out one by one, Gabriel cleared his throat. “I ain’t ever given your position much damn thought, and I ain’t gonna say you are wrong. _Jésus a pleuré_ , Squir-- Taddy, I ain’t ever blamed you, just _him,_ and I suppose _Dieu_.”

Finishing the bottle, Gabriel set it by his bare feet. “When she died, the man I knew as _m’_ father died too, and this man who took his place. . . well, it was like he forgot I existed. Must sound damn lame compared to how you feel. Still, trust me, _frère_ _cadet_ , it has done its job on _moi_.” Having said this, Gabriel cracked his knuckles, the sound half-heartedly echoing about the rock house. “Not once has he apologized for abadonin’ us all and god damn it, he could at least apologize to Katharine and _moi_ since we know the difference between havin’ parents and caretakers.” Clamping his mouth shut, having said more than he meant to, Gabriel stared at the floor between his feet.

Thaddeus sat quiet for a bit and then rubbing his hands up his face, released a broken smile “Well, fuck it all . . . ain’t we more alike than we thought?”

Gabriel peeked up, feeling a connection he had not felt before and said, “I suppose we are, Taddy." Looking down again, he scratched at the back of his head, “you said earlier, he had been actin’ differently.”

Thaddeus exhaled and nodded.

Straightening, Gabriel asked, “how so?”

“To begin with," Thaddeus held up his right index finger, "he ain’t popped me upside the head, since afore I brought the ague home.”

“Mmm-hmm, that might be a change on your behalf,” Gabriel growled, opening the last bottle. "If’n you recall, he bloodied _moi_ damn fine recently."

“Yeah, but you kind of had that comin'.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“Aw, come on, _pour l’amour de Dieu,_ you were pushin 'em, and you fuckin’ know it.”

“All right,” Gabriel relinquished, taking a long drink, swallowing away some of the bitter memory.

“There is also the way; he has been speakin’ to _moi_ like he is interested in what I got to say.”

Gabriel shrugged.

“And, the way he has been fuckin' dancin' around us, I do not know, but it feels like. . .” Thaddeus placed his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “. . . like he . . . he wants us to notice him for a change.”

Gabriel froze, tilted his head, and then grinned, “You are right on the barrel there. I, too, have noticed how he has been goin’ on like he cares for us, sayin’ how proud he is, and all other sorts of other bullshit.”

“Right! Like tossin’ fuckin’ atta boys at us, tryin' to chew the fat with us, or even crazier askin’ our opinions. It is damn peculiar, that is what it is,” Thaddeus said, digging through his discarded clothes, removing one of his gold double-eagles, he lunged over and sat down next to Gabriel. “You reckon that is why he deemed we both up and won the bet?”

“Truthfully, I ain’t been able to put _m’_ finger on that _une_."

“I thought it felt..." Thaddeus walked the coin up through his fingers. ".... tremendous.”

Gabriel grunted.

“Gabe, I mean it. I felt top-notch. For once, he did not fuckin’ lecture _moi_ on how I could have done better. He just said I did a _bonne_ job.” Thaddeus motioned for the bottle and took a big swallow. "For the first time, I felt he might have liked _moi_... maybe, a little bit.”

Gabriel nodded and then smiled. "It did feel _bonne_."

Thaddeus’ crooked grin appeared.

However, Gabriel’s smile disappeared, and he rubbed his face, muttering, "I recollect when he was _bonne_. Really _bonne_ , like when he--”

“He noticed you,” Thaddeus said, finishing his words and leaning against his brother.

Gabriel nodded.

“Like he did today?”

“Yeah, like today.”

“See, he is actin' odd,” Thaddeus said, rolling his forehead back-and-forth against Gabriel’s shoulder. “Who knows, maybe Dora is right. Maybe he does _amour_ us.”

“ _Par Dieu_ , Taddy, you are sweatin' all over _moi_ ,” Gabriel grumbled, bouncing the shoulder Thaddeus was lying on, up and down, “get the hell off!”

Thaddeus coughed, his face turning a bit green.

Rolling an eye his direction, Gabriel watched him closely, however, when his brother swallowed spasmodically, a few times, he breathed easier saying, “You might be correct. What the hell, perhaps, I shall give the old man another chance to prove if’n he _amours_ _moi,_ if’n that is what he is tryin' to do.” Having made this decision, Gabriel felt a quiet tranquility descend on him, of the likes he had not felt in years. Just as he was relishing in it, Thaddeus set to coughing.

Peeking over, Gabriel saw his little brother’s whole body convulsing with each cough, but he was also gagging. Leaping up, Gabriel shouted, “ _Merde_!” and scooping Thaddeus up, launched the pair of them through the steam house door into the winter night air, just as all the whiskey Thaddeus had guzzled, spewed out. “Yup, we are done drinkin’. Time to get some food and chicory in you.”

Thaddeus moaned, "I do not want _non_ food.”

“Does not matter, I am shovin’ some down you anyways,” Gabriel replied, going back to retrieve their clothes. Mostly dressed when he emerged, he found Thaddeus squatting, vomiting, and whining, “I wanna go to bed.”

“Sure, you do,” Gabriel answered, getting his brother to his feet and shoving him into his clothes. Then, with a push, he aimed Thaddeus toward the house, but within a few steps, he slid on the hoarfrost covered grass. Before he could hit the hard ground, Gabriel caught him. “I got you.”

A huge smile appeared from Gabriel, for it came to him with Lafayette gone, he was, finally, the brother to be leaned on. At long, long last, it was he. Feeling exuberant in this new position, he gripped Thaddeus in closer. “Go on and lean on _moi,_ Taddy, I will not let you fall. _Non,_ not ever.”


	46. Chapter FORTY-THREE

Chapter Fifty-Three

Sienna, Harrisonville, Cass County, Missouri

17th of April 1860

Dearest Katharine,

I have mulled long on what you wrote of city living corrupting Lafe and how you feel he is becoming a disgrace to his very name. I pray this is not true; however, no matter what happens, you must understand it is not safe for him here. I fear if he were in Cass, it would only be a matter of time before word reached us that he was murdered. Please, my dear, have patience with him; he is young. I, too, shall write him of his behavior and how he should be conducting his self.

I do want you to know with each passing day, I find myself missing y'all more. I would adore having y'all return here when you leave Orleans to avoid the summer illness that plagues the town. Yet, my sweet girl, the situation is still not correct for y'all to come home.

I understand you feeling Sienna would bring you needed serenity. Yet, Katherine, it is far from peaceful here; daily arguments erupt between Tad and members of our household. It is because he has been forbidden to enlist, and still, he will not let the notion go. You would find him a thoughtless sinner, for, in his frustration, he rails on, swearing a terrible blue streak. There are days; I am surprised his ears have not come off altogether, as often as Simone gives them stout twists.

Simone asked I convey her love and that her arms ache to hug each of her babies. I rightly know she misses y'all, as she mopes around here like a Shakespearean heroine. Recently, I thought to cheer her by saying, 'you still have Gabe, Tad, and Eudora.' Unfortunately, it earned me an earful, part of it being. . . 'them _garçons_ is too preoccupied with furrowing their private paths to Hell; Gabe enjoyin' too much hard liquor, and Taddy too much hard language.' Her simple depiction of them embarrasses me, for as their Father, I ought to put a halt to their waywardness. Except Katharine, they have ceased turning their backs to me; they will sit and talk without any expression that it pains them to do so. The selfish truth is I do not wish to burn the bridge we are building by chastising them.

Now, Dora, she is doing splendidly. She goes cheerfully about her chores; every day seems a blessing to her. She and Gabe continue to tease Tad, which at times has her giggling until she hiccups. I have never known her to be so mischievous, but her entertainment brings much-needed sunshine to this home. She has also become quite proficient in leading the nightly prayers. Somehow, her readings of the psalms have brought me back to the Lord, and listening to her often leaves me wishing we, too, had the means to attend Mass.

Thinking now of the Good Book, I implore you to turn the other cheek. I am sure Lafe's ambition is not to vex you. Additionally, his not partaking in Eucharist was but a lapse; let time prove this. I do wonder if your weary ire comes from consistently apologizing for him. If so, I say you should pull in the reins on those blathering elitists. An apology only makes what he does also seem wrong to the family. Confront them, stand up for him, and put a halt to this gossiping about your brother. Remind them it is the Lord's place to watch over him and carries little Christian charity in speaking so of him. I have faith you can put this talk down if you put yourself to it.

My hand seems to have taken on a life of its own this evening, scribbling and scribbling, clearly illustrating how much I miss our long chats. However, my pet, regardless of my desire to have you here, I still say the time is not right. I feel so strongly on this matter that if there were a way, I would convey more of your siblings to you, beginning with Thaddeus Robert. As I write his name, I shake my head and think, be pleased; you only have Lafayette Henri. And, my girl, I ask for you to not retouch on the topic of returning as your pleas wring at my heart.

My Loving Regards, Father

Sienna, Harrisonville, Cass County, Missouri

17th of April 1860

Lafe,

Your elder sister sends detailed chronicles of your endeavors, and not surprisingly, she has done an excellent task of dramatizing them. You seem to have her at wit's end. Although I admit I enjoy reading of your roguery, I also implore you to conceal more of your doings, thus aggravating her far less. That is as much reprimand as I shall write. Yet, allow Katharine to believe I have written harshly. My sweet girl has no understanding of men and our ways. Which is as it should be, so please, improve at keeping more from her.

I must say, I am thrilled, even though it is a thorn in Katharine's side; I know this by her statement of you and Josie' creating chaos of this humble home'. She also included examples of y' alls shenanigans, and they made me smile. For each one, clearly illustrated that you and Josie are once again pals. It bothered me a good deal that you two had broken apart as you younger children were always so close. Thank you for making amends with your sister. Also, I highly approve of Jonathon, whom you and Josie write regularly; I would say he appears the competent, stable, caring sort I want for my daughter. I do wish I could meet him. However, times being as they are, I do not foresee this happening in the near future.

Let me give you news from Missouri. This winter and onto spring, we have received little rain. According to the papers, the Nebraska-Kansas Territory has gotten even less. Their deepest wells are dry, crops withering where they are planted, even roaming herds have followed the rain to greener lands. I know as a Christian, I should pity them, yet they have made it hard to do so. As the Kansans have chosen to use our border counties as their personal source of supplies, so instead, I feel great pity for those homesteads being looted and burned. Correspondingly, I fear if this drought continues, the Kansas raiders will feel a need to push much deeper into our State to satisfy their wants.

Before you left, our Missouri Guard Units were more a gathering point for the local boys, a way to whoop-holler and feel important. This is no longer the case, they fight horrific, bloody battles, and even though they try to protect the Border, I still find myself having mixed feelings about these young men becoming rampant killers.

Our Guard Units report that they fight not only Kansans and Jayhawkers, but I loathe to say, also, Missouri Home Guards. Within our State, our neighbors whose beliefs follow those of the Federals and, sadly, the Jayhawkers has been created under the moniker 'The Missouri Home Guard.' It has reached a point that these blue-uniformed Home Guards seem to loathe and strive to destroy all who are not like them.

There seems to be no peaceful resolution on the horizon. Accordingly, Southern Missourians have become more than grateful for their Guard units, as it is the only protection, even justice that they have since the Jayhawkers and Home Guard freely lie to the Federal Troops who back them. Unfortunately, these men and boys who have safeguarded their neighbors have been labeled treasonous. Last winter, I often found myself thinking about young men who were forced by warrants of treason to lair up in the woods, to avoid those hunting them because they defended their homes and those of their neighbors from theft and destruction. Cass is not so far from the Border and these harsh realities; it makes me worry that your brothers may wind up hiding in the woods unless Washington can be made to see the Civil War erupting here within Missouri.

Locally, our boys are 'The Cass Cavilers.' They have openly declared it their sacred duty to roust out thieves, murderers, and dishonest Federalists from our County. They are eulogized as heroes, much like knights of old and Lafe; I cannot explain in mere syntax how inordinately Tad desires to be a Caviler. I thank the Lord, Gabe, and I are in complete agreeance here that Tad is too young. Gabe has loudly and firmly refused Tad's enlistment in any of the Cass regiments, including the one he leads himself.

On the political front, Mr. Claiborne Jackson has been doing the rounds to promote himself for Governor. He is a Southerner to the core, at the same time; he firmly believes a State cannot and should not exist outside the Union. He strives to remind us we are all citizens under one flag, the same flag our forefathers gave their very lives to create. I was in Harrisonville the other day and stopped at a group gathered about a tall stump, and there was Jackson sermonizing. He equated the States to children within a family, saying children have squabbles, not always do they agree, yet they are still a family. As such, they continue to respect and love one another despite their differences. Hence, in the end, their disputes are settled peacefully. I found myself readily agreeing with him, and I have decided I shall vote for him.

The purple of evening is approaching, and I must help in caring for the stock, for with Gabe absent this past week, I know my appearance would be appreciated. Although I wish to inform you before I close this letter, we have trained a large number of the herd. Honestly, I should say Tad has done so. His natural ability with horses simply amazes me. Yet, now, I must determine how to best deliver these trained animals to buyers willing to reimburse their value. I am sure you are thinking, what is new as this is a yearly occurrence. Lafe, this year is different, for I am nearly determined to sell more than we keep. I know how shocking this sounds, yet, I believe the horses set Sienna apart as a ripe location for raiders to strip bare. That to keep the animals, which we are so proud of, could bring about the death of Sienna and all here. I am still figuring what to do. I will keep you informed, as I am confident, I will have need of you down South.

There is one last bit I wish to impart. . .. I have tried to impress on you how wretchedly people are turning on one another here. Politics have honestly torn friend from friend, even families apart. Yet, the Eriksen's, despite never being slave owners, remain true neighbors, nay friends. Countless times, I have come across Jackson helping Tad, as there are days when the chores here are endless. Also, despite any grumblings you may hear from me, I want you to know I have learned to see Thaddeus in a new light. He is utterly devoted to Sienna. Although he may curse loud enough for all to hear, he still bends his back to accept the yoke of this place. He is changed. The boy is turning the corner to becoming a man, a man that will surprise you and all others. I am sure of it.

Know I love you and that your letters bring me great joy. Please, write again soon.

Your, Father, Antonio T. Crowe


	47. Chapter FORTY-FOUR

Chapter Fifty-Four

**Monday 23 rd April 1860**

Coming through the front door, Lafayette caught up his nephew in an embrace. “I surmise you have grown taller since last I measured you. Keep this up, and you are goin’ to be a giant.”

“I hope so. I want to be as tall as _vous_.”

A twinkle lit Lafayette’s eyes. “Are you sayin’? I am a giant?”

The boy grinned, his round cheeks creasing his eyes.

With a roar, Lafayette flipped him over to dangle upside down, and laughter poured from Michaël. Smiling just as large as the boy, Lafayette dropped Michaël until his fingertips brushed the runner rug, and more laughter filled the house.

“ _S’il vous plait,_ put him down.”

Righting Michaël, Lafayette set him on his hip, turning with a flat expression to his elder sister.

Focusing on her son, Katharine’s tone became sharp and accusing, “Are _vous_ not supposed to be upstairs doin’ your handwriting exercises?”

Meekly, Michaël, replied, “ _Oui, Mère._ ”

“Then, you are a terrible _garçon_ to be down here!”

Sniffing hard, the boy ducked his face into his Uncle’s shoulder, and Lafayette scowled.

Ignoring both of them, Katharine demanded, “Put him down this second!”

“You oughta try loosenin’ up a bit; it _jamais_ hurts a child to laugh.”

Her cheek twitched, and when she spoke, she drew each word out with cold preciseness, “Lafayette Henri Begnoir, when I consider how _vous_ comports thy self, I would say it gives _vous très_ little to say where _m’ fils_ is concerned. Put him down!”

Lafayette’s pulse quickened, and kneeling, he spun, wrapping about his nephew as smoothly as sliding into a coat. “Mikey _Garçon,_ Connor is expectin’ _moi_. Run-on out, and let ‘em know I will be along after I speak with your _Mère?_ ”

Michaël leaned sideways to check his Mother’s expression, and Lafayette moved with him, blocking his view. Still, the boy’s lower lip trembled, “ _Mère_ says, I am to go upstairs.”

Rolling out his full, wide dimpled smile, Lafayette cooed, “It will be all right. You…” He tapped Michaël on the nose. “go give Connor _m’_ message and ask ‘em to learn you a new rhyme.”

“Michaël!?”

The boy cringed.

Pulling him close, Lafayette kissed the side of his face and then shoved him toward the garden, “do as I say, go on.”

The small boy took off, and standing, Lafayette blocked the hallway with a look that dared Katharine to do something. Once he heard the back-door slam, he unveiled a stiff smile, “I judge it is past time for us to talk.”

Frown lines deepened in her face, “I see _non_ reason for us to speak?”

Giving her a half bow, Lafayette gestured to the parlor, “it was not a request.”

Marching in, Katharine sat ramrod straight on the settee and walking to the baby grand piano; Lafayette placed his palms on its shiny, ebony surface; tension hanging between them like simmering heat over a fire.

Pulling at the cuff of her dress, Katharine thought, ‘Why can he not behave the way I wish? When I learned Lafayette was the _only frère_ accompanyin’ us, I was pleased. Always he had been reasonable, yielding . . . that is until we came here.’

Turning, he saw her annoyance, and his eyes narrowed, darkening, “This must end.”

Not deigning to look up, she replied, “I have not the slightest idea what _vous_ are speaking of.”

“ _Non_ idea?” Running his tongue across his teeth, he looked to his feet, feeling his demon rattling to be free. “ _Non_ idea, at all!?”

She looked up, pointedly, biting off her words, “ _Vous_ wanted this conversation, not _moi_.”

Slowly, his head raised, and when Katharine saw the hot fury in his face, her eyes widened, her throat going dry. At her startled expression, he leaned on the piano, dropping his face into his hands, feeling his left dimple pulsing in time with his rushing blood.

Staying perfectly still, she warily eyed him.

Having reined his rage back, he looked up, stroking his lower lip with his index finger, “To begin with, each time you speak to _moi,_ it is with pure waspishness.”

“That is not true.”

“Oh, but it is.”

She opened her mouth, and he shook his head.

“You refuse to accompany _moi_ in public.”

Color rose in her face.

“And here…” He waved a hand about him, “you demean and undercut _moi_ at every opportunity.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“At every instance, you can find.”

She pursed her lips, and he smiled back. But, to her, it was more of a controlled snarl, so she looked away.

“Mostly, you refrain from addressin’ _moi_ at all. Yet, when you deign to, it is only by _m’_ full _nom,_ except when you say it..." His dark eyes widened, making him appear even more dangerous, "... it sounds like the lash of a whip."

She sucked in her lips.

“I am _très désolé. Y_ ou are so disturbed by the prospect of havin’ _moi_ as part of your _famille._ On the other hand, I am not in the least _désolé_ for anything which you see as inadequate about _moi._ ”

“Lafayette Henri Beg--”

“I now understand…” He said, speaking over her, “you only submitted to _m’_ leadership on the voyage here, merely ‘cause it was proper etiquette to do so. From the start, you planned to rule over us, to be not only our elder but the _une_ in charge. Well, Katharine, I will not be governed. I am sick unto death of being treated as a blasted child. Look at _moi!_ ” He stood, striding toward her. “I am no longer a _garçon_. I am a man. Everyone sees _moi_ thusly, except you _,_ and I am done with it.” Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths, settling himself, before opening them. “Furthermore, I am weary of walkin’ on tenterhooks, ‘cause I _jamais_ know what will send you into a tantrum. Your coldness, your reprimands, and the way you bray at _moi_. I am done. I will _non_ longer abide you takin’ your anger out on _moi,_ or anyone else, especially Mikey. I _amour_ _m’_ _neveu,_ and I would say he feels the same for _moi_. Yet, you doggedly keep us apart. So, here and now, while I am before you, explain why you feel the need to be so malicious.”

Staring beyond him at the leafy tendrils of the potted fern on the piano, Katharine held her tongue, and the silence stretched out between them, the only movement being that of his left dimple.

At length, he ran a hand back through his long hair. “ _Zut!_ This is your chance," his rising rage erasing softness and manners from his voice, he snarled, "Speak!”

Katharine took a gulping breath. “I hoped you would be the perfect role model for _m_ _’ fils_.” Her eyes switched to him, “and, you…. you are so far from it. You blaspheme, keep poor hours, gamble, drink, just…” she shook her head, “honestly, _m’_ faith in you was an atrocious blunder.”

“Perfect??” He shook his head with a snort. “I ain’t _jamais_ heard of any person being perfect, and yet, you expected _moi_ to comport myself so.”

“Maybe not, perfect, but…” she closed her eyes, tears wetting her cheeks, “Michaël adores you, and I do not want ‘em to reason breakin’ the commandments, that being as _vous_ are, is acceptable.” She opened her eyes, and there was a new strength to be seen there. “And I am ashamed of you. Michaël’s father was an upright church abidin’ man of morals, and you…” She let her words trail off.

With a grunt, Lafayette scrubbed a hand across his face. “I sincerely regret Archie is _non_ longer here for the pair of’n you _._ However, you cannot expect _moi_ to be his moral replacement.”

Shoving her fist against her lips, Katharine clenched her eyes tight.

Squatting, Lafayette took up her free hand, “ _Chérie_?”

Shaking her head vehemently, she pulled her hand from him. “I believed Father trusted _m’_ judgment, and that when I wrote him, he would be overjoyed to have Michaël and I return home. All he did was inform _moi_ to turn the other cheek and. . .” She snorted, or as close as she could come to such an act. “I _non_ longer want to be here, not with--.” She stopped speaking.

“Not with _moi.”_

The pale smattering of freckles that dappled her cheeks became dramatically pronounced against her reddening face.

“Not with _moi,_ ” Lafayette smiled tightly, “not with _une_ who refuses to follow your demands, and you have deemed as nefarious.”

A timid smile trembled on her face, “I do not see _vous_ as nefarious, just… _mal_. And, Lafayette, _vous do not listen to_ _moi_.” She raised her eyes to him, her cheek twitching, "Why!?"

He grasped her hand again, and this time, she let him hold it. “Cause, like I said, I ain't a child to be bossed, and I ain’t ever goin’ to be a perfect _monsieur_ , neither. I am simply your _frère.”_ He squeezed her hand lightly, “And, I will make mistakes. But I will also attain triumphs, and I will do both on _m’_ own, without bein’ herded by another. You worry ‘bout _qu’elle_ Father thinks . . . well, he has faith in _moi,_ trusts _m’_ decisions. So, why cannot you?”

Chewing at her lower lip, she looked back to the light, glistening off the fern leaves.

Seeing she did not intend to answer, he stood, releasing her hand. “Fine, if’n this is how you wish it between us, I shall stay damn-well clear of you. _Per contra,_ I beseech you to relent in your malice toward Mikey, Jo, and Connor. _Feu de l'enfer_ , being ‘round you is like waitin' for a confounded trap to snap shut on your neck. It is a hard way to live day in, day out, and though I shall, stomach your treatment, as in your eyes I am a failure, the rest of our _famille_ should not be treated the same.”

The silent tears tracing along the outlines of her cheeks hurt him more than she would ever understand, and he fell to pacing. “I recollect when you used to smile; _feu de l'enfer,_ even laugh. I appreciate being a widow; markedly at your age is a terrible way to be. Still, if’n, you could break off searchin' for the worst in people, I suspect you would find a measure of happiness.”

Katharine swallowed hard, the muscles in her neck clenching.

Stopping before her, he looked down, studying her pain. Then with a long exhale, he said, almost too low to be heard, “I do not wish us to be at odds.”

Her face snapped around to him.

Looking away, he ran a hand back through his hair and returned his gaze to her wet eyes, “Do you even want to mend this difficulty ‘tween us?"

She nodded.

" _Vraiment?_ ”

She nodded, stronger.

He breathed deep, the corner of his mouth hitching in a crooked grin. “ _Je t'aime, Chérie,_ you are _m’ Gran_ _Sœur,_ _s’il vous plaît,_ let us be as we were before we came here.”

She nodded more, passing him a quivering smile.

“Would you like to be left alone?”

This time she shook her head.

Taking a seat, he offered his arms.

With a timid smile, she accepted his peace offering, hugging him tightly. “I do _amour vous,_ Lafe, and I will endeavor to treat _vous_ better.” She swiped tears from her face, “and… I suppose I did not see what sort of tyrant I was becomin’; I will strive to be more forgivin’.”

He nodded, “and I will strive not to aggravate you so.”

She released a quavering laugh, “ _vous_ are perfectly awful at that.”

His low baritone laugh rumbled forth, and he hugged her closer, when from the room above came a bellowed shout, “Lafe!?”

They both looked to the ceiling, tracking Joséphine’s movements on the second floor.

Slanting his eyes to Katharine, he smiled softly, “Then we are _bonne_?”

She nodded as another shout of “Lafe!” reverberated down the stairs.

His boyish smile erupted, “she will be on this floor in a moment.”

“Is this what goes on ‘round here when _Grand_ - _mère_ and I are away?”

The smile vanished.

“I am not being critical, simply inquirin’.”

“Well, when y'all are out, this place does sound a lot more like Sienna.”

A mumbled oath floated down the stairs, and he grinned. “Jo and I miss Sienna’s chaos, and given half a chance; I am ‘fraid to say, we revert rather easily to it.”

Katharine half-laughed, “honestly, there are times I, too, miss the noise.”

Trotting down the stairs, Joséphine grumbled, “ _Zut!_ Where in blazes, are you, Lafe?”

His dimples grooving each side of his face, Lafayette motioned Katharine to remain quiet, and standing, he moved to the center of the room.

Racing by, Joséphine threw the parlor a cursory glance, and catching sight of him, she slid to a halt, “There you are! Why in Hades did you not answer? I know you heard me. Do you have any notion how difficult it is searchin’ all over for you, in this cussed contraption, Katharine insists I wear?” With a loud snort, Joséphine slapped at the metal bone stays of her corset, and at about the same time, noticed her sister.

“ _Mon Chérie,_ I find it more entertainin’ not to answer. However, since you have found _moi_ , I suppose I should ask, what may I do for you?”

Seeing amusement shining brightly in his face, Joséphine wanted to rise to the bait. Yet, at the moment, all she could think of was Katharine watching her. “Uh. . . uhm. . . this mornin’ you said you would have a surprise for me...” her eyes swung from Lafayette to Katharine and back, “…uh. . . well, when you returned from the law office, I heard you come in and…” She stuttered to a stop, her eyes again going to her sister, thinking, ‘why is she not chidin’ me? Has she been weepin’?’ Joséphine’s mouth and eyes opened wider, and she looked back to her brother, ‘Did Lafe make ‘the porcelain empress' cry?’

“Jo…?” he prompted.

“You know, waitin’ kills me.”

“I know.” The corners of his mouth turned up, and he passed her a wink. “You shall have to have patience, as I do have a _merveilleux_ surprise for you _._ ” Smiling broader at Joséphine’s evident confusion, he turned to Katharine, “if’n you would excuse us.”

Not trusting herself to keep from reprimanding Joséphine’s language and behavior, Katharine settled for nodding her acquiesces.

Bowing slightly, Lafayette took her hand, kissing the back of it. “ _Merci beaucoup_ for speakin’ with _moi_ ,” then taking Joséphine’s hand, he led her to the garden.

Outside, Joséphine stared openly at the house and then swirled the pair of them in a circle. “I cannot believe I escaped her condemnations.”

“Count your blessings.”

“I am! I am!”

He laughed, pulling free, “Come on, _Chérie,_ Connor is waitin’ on us.”


	48. Chapter FORTY-FIVE

Chapter Fifty-Five

_"Bells of St. Clement's. You owe me five farthings, Say the Bells of St. Martin's. When will you pay me, say the Bells of Old Bailey?”_

“You hear that? Mikey is singin’ ' _Oranges and Lemons_.'”

“I never cared for that rhyme.”

“Well, I did,” Lafayette replied, holding back the philodendron's large, heart-shaped leaves.

“I know,” Joséphine answered, rolling her eyes and stepping by him into the smaller courtyard, where the _garçonnière_ curved about the property's rear wall. Before one of its doors sat Connor with wood slivers filtering to the ground as he carved while singing along with Michaël, who was working his way through a hopscotch pattern. “ _When I grow rich, say the Bells of Shoreditch. When will that be, say the Bells of Stepney?”_

Seeing the siblings, Connor broke off singing to set his chair's front feet on the ground. At the same time, Lafayette laid a finger to his lips, nodding at his nephew, who was bending to retrieve his puck stone. _“I do not know, say the Great Bells of Bow.”_

Rushing forward and picking up the song, Lafayette swept his nephew off the ground. _“Here comes a candle to light you to Bed. Here comes a Chopper to chop off your head. Chip-chop. Chip-chop... the Last Man is dead.”_ At the song's end, he spun Michaël, hanging him upside down. “Chip-chop. Chip-chop. Should I drop you on your head?” he asked, letting the boy slip a little.

A shriek of laughter pealed from Michaël, “ _Non_ , _Oncle_. _Non_!”

Spinning him over, Lafayette hugged the boy, and squatting, he set Michaël on his raised bent knee. “That is a tough pattern.”

Michaël nodded. “I ain't made it through once.”

"You will." Lafayette grinned, “ _Lemons and Oranges,_ great rhyme, I used to sing it back when I played this.”

“You did?”

“He did,” Joséphine responded, placing her hands on her hips. “Still, cannot fathom why you and Taddy adored it so much. It is just a horrid song, all that _the last man is dead_ and all.”

Lafayette looked up innocently. “Now, who is condemning who?”

“I am,” she nodded with a toothy smile. “I am condemning you." Spinning toward Connor, she called, "And you too . . . now that you taught it to 'em, I will be forced to hear it, all the time, all over again.”

“It be a fine gaming rhyme,” Connor answered, winking playfully to Joséphine. “I cannot be believing, ye, me wild lassie, do not be for enjoying it.”

With a smirk, Joséphine stuck her tongue out, and he burst into a full belly laugh.

Tugging at his Uncle’s frock coat, Michaël asked, “Did _vous vraiment_ play hopscotch?”

“ _Oui_ , probably still can,” Lafayette replied. “Peter taught all of’n us, said it would make us quick on our feet. Taddy and I would play 'til our legs ached.”

“Will _vous_ play with _moi_?”

“Another time, _Garçon_ , you have studies that I have encouraged you to disregard.”

Michaël’s mouth dragged down.

“I have spoken with your _mère_ ; all will be fine.” Placing Michaël on his feet, Lafayette stood. “You have had a grand respite; it is time for you to head back up.”

Michaël drug one small foot along a chalk line and then peered up with big brown eyes.

“ _Non,_ that will not work on _moi._ Inside with you. Chip-chop, chip-chop.” Lafayette said, lightly popping Michaël’s backside, and the boy took off like a horse from a starting gate with a ribbon of laughter trailing after him.

“You are good with 'em.”

“You sound surprised?”

Joséphine shrugged and then punched his arm, “Could be 'cause you were always so tough on Taddy and me.”

“I would say your memories are tainted. I was the _une_ who invariably had to pull you off Taddy. _Par Dieu,_ I would say, part of the reason he is such a _bonne_ fighter is from learnin' to dodge your blows.” Sidestepping another punch, Lafayette yelped, “See! Just like that.”

Unable to hold onto her sham of anger, a laugh burst from Joséphine, “Maybe, you are right.”

Raising his chin a notch, Lafayette quirked an eyebrow, “I know, I am.”

“Hmm, what is it Taddy says, “Oh, yes." She rolled her eyes dramatically, _"Ain’t no use arguin’ with Lafe, he is always right. You will just wind up frustrated and still wrong.”_

“At least he understands the truth,” Lafayette said, dodging another punch.

“Sure, look it. I be hating to be breaking this up.” Connor nodded to Joséphine, “I deem she could take ye, Lafe. Still, it be time for we to go.”

“ _Oui,_ it is past,” Lafayette replied.

“Meet you at Jackson Square?”

“Just as discussed.”

With a nod and a chirk, Connor headed for the garden gate.

“What fool’s errand have you set poor Connor on?”

“Does not concern you.”

“Humph!” She grunted, taking a few tentative jumps on the hopscotch pattern. “I miss being able to play,” she said, lifting the yards of fabric that made her dress hem with a snort. “Hell, I miss seein' my feet.”

Wrapping an arm about her, Lafayette released a joyful laugh, “Someone once told _moi_ , it is pretty terrible havin’ to be respectable.”

“You were listenin’ to me; all that time, you would not talk to me.”

He grinned with a shrug.

She shook her head, “you are the one who is terrible.”

“And yet, you _amour moi_ anyway.”

“Yes, I do, but Devil only knows why.”

“Cause I am your best _ami_ in the world.”

Grabbing him in a hug, she whispered, “Yes, you are. ‘Cept, when you are tauntin’ me with a surprise like you, have been all day long.”

“Well, come along, then _m’ Cherie_ , I will escort you to your surprise?”

An hour later, walking along the cobblestones, Joséphine asked, “If’n takin’ me for ice cream was not my surprise, then what is?”

 _“Jésus, a pleuré,_ but you are persistent.”

Admiring the tall brick buildings along _Rue de_ Chartres, she bumped against Lafayette, “it truly is lovely here.”

“I like it.”

Spinning to walk backward in front of him, she pleaded, “Come on, Lafe, cease being a botherment, and tell me what you are up to.”

“Turn around, _s’il vous plaît,_ afore you trip _._ ”

She did, but not before wrinkling her nose at him, “you are indubitably…” She paused, “is that Jonathon with Connor over by Jackson Square?”

“Appears to be.”

Tossing her brother a love-filled grin, she hustled off as fast as permissible. Before she made it to the park, Conner passed her, and tipping his hat, called, “Hello again, Lass.”

“Hello,” she answered, feeling puzzled, but kept on for where Jonathon, now stood, just inside the park, speedily, turning his hat in hand.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” his blue eyes darted to Lafayette and Connor, who had reclined themselves against the wall surrounding the Square. Putting his hat on, he smiled at her, “Want to walk in the garden?”

“Of course,” she replied, taking his arm. “Have you been well?”

“Yes.”

Her brows furrowed, “I have not seen you all week.”

“I have been rather busy.”

“I suppose your Father has had you workin’.”

“Not too much,” Jonathon answered, pulling her to a halt behind the statue of Colonel Jackson.

“Are you sure you are well?” She cupped his face. “You look peevish.”

At her touch, his chest tightened, his breathing becoming stilted. “I am fine.”

She arched her brows at him.

“Well, I am not altogether fine.” He licked his lips, “Father, intends for me to travel to Europe to broker trade deals.”  
Her eyes widened, “Oh…”

“I hope that means you will miss me.”

“I suppose I might miss you,” Joséphine replied, hot tears burning her eyes, and she thought. ‘Do not cry like some ninny.’ However, it did not matter, for the tears were already wetting her face.

Jonathon gulped, “Joséphine.” Looking left and right, and seeing they were alone, he wrapped her up in his arms.

Inhaling his scent, she asked, “How long will you be gone?”

“Most of a year, perhaps more.”

“No,” she wailed, crumpling into his chest and falling to sobbing in earnest.

“Hush, hush, dear,” Jonathon soothed, rocking her gently. “I want very much to take you with me.”

Pulling back, her eyes roved over his face. “what a wonderful dream you weave...”

He shook his head, dropping to one knee, “you are correct; it is a wonderful dream.” Taking her hand, he said, “Ms. Joséphine Michelle Antoinette, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife and thus accompanying me wherever I may go?”

All fell quiet, and Joséphine thought, ‘why is it, suddenly, so hard to breathe? Oh, it is this damn corset. I fear I might swoon.’

He gripped tighter of her hand, “Joséphine?”

When he spoke, all sound and color came rushing back. She began breathing rapidly, and with a smile that rounded her cheeks and wrinkled her nose, she cried, "Yes. Jonathon, yes."

He removed her lace glove with shaking hands, sliding a golden band weighted with a light blue sapphire on her finger. Standing, he tipped her face up from looking at the ring, “a constant reminder of my love.”

“It is the color of your eyes.”

“That it is,” he answered, pressing his lips to hers; she clung to him, their kiss deepening until she wanted nothing in the world so much as him.

When they came apart, she smoothed her lips together, enjoying the lingering feeling of his kiss until a terrible thought came to her. "What about Lafe? And, my Father?”

Jonathon laughed, “I kiss you like that, and you think of them?”

She blushed, whispering, “Only ‘cause I want you to kiss me like that thousands of times more, and _they_ could make it difficult.”

“Then, my dear, you will be pleased. For I have already gotten their blessings,” Jonathon replied, drawing her in, kissing her with slow, thoughtfulness.

Leaning into him, she sighed, “This feels so right, and now you rogue; I can finally tell you…” she smiled up at him. “…you stole my heart the first time I saw you.”

“If it were not so cliché, I would say the same.”

She grinned mischievously, “Oh, go ahead and be cliché.”

Kissing her left cheek, he said, “Josie,” he then kissed her forehead, “I have loved you.” He kissed her right cheek, “since the moment I saw you.” He kissed the tip of her nose, “asleep in the garden, and I will love you, forevermore.” Leaning in, he crushed her to him, his lips hungrily searching hers.

Snuggling into his arms, she whispered, “I cannot wait to be your wife.” Closing her eyes, she listened to his heart, knowing they should break apart before someone came across them. Then it came to her, and she pulled back with a snort. “Lafe knew you were going to ask today, did he not?”

“Why, of course.”

“He is such a _diable…._ ” She shook her head, “he used your plans to pester me.”

“Sounds about like him,” Jonathon replied, feeling as if he could never stop smiling.

“How long before we leave for Europe?”

“A month.”

A frown played on her lips, then she shrugged, “We shall have a small wedding.” She bit her lower lip, “But, Jonathon, when we return, can we travel to Sienna for a visit?”

“As you wish, _mon Chérie_.”

She snickered.

“What?”

“ _François_ does not suit you.”

“I will remind you," he raised both his brows at her, "I was born here in New Orleans.”

“But, not in a Creole home, and well, my love, it does not suit you.” She kissed his cheek. “Course, it never suited me either, so we are well-matched.”


	49. Chapter FORTY-SIX

Chapter Forty-Six

Jonathon's head tilted back, his blue eyes widening as he took in the three-story home, with its row after row of windows and lead glass doors trimmed in turquoise shutters.

Paying little mind as he tied the mare to a hitching post, Lafayette spun about to see Jonathon gawking and stepping back; he too tilted his head. When he did, he saw his home through the other man's eyes, and this time, it was Lafayette who swallowed hard. " _Excusez-moi,_ slips _m'_ mind how pretentious this place can be. See, _m' Grand-mère…"_ He waved at the twisted, ornate cast-iron engulfing the building. "…does enjoy her decorations."

Making no move to dismount, Jonathon looked bleakly down, and not noticing, Lafayette smiled up at him enthusiastically, "truth is, I am damn eager to introduce you to _m'_ _famille._ "

Licking his lips, Jonathon took a breath, "Mr. Crowe, I--."

"Oh, _feu de l'enfer_ , do not start with that. Whole reason I visit saloons so far from Royal is to avoid all that _monsieur connerie_ ; it tires _moi_ the hell out. Climb on down."

While he did as told, loosening King's cinch and tying him, Lafayette kept talking. "I was not jokin' earlier when I said I want to be _amis._ " Hearing himself, he smiled shyly, glad Jonathon was not paying attention as he thought, 'ain't sure why, but he does feel like he could be _mon_ first _ami_ here in _Louisiane_. Hope I do not try any harder than I already have to mess this up.'

Patting King, Jonathon turned about, struggling for something to say.

"You see, the way of it is . . ." Lafayette theatrically waved his hand in the air, "whenever I step outside this gate, I turn into _Monsieur_ Begnoir-Bueford Crowe."

Jonathon's face blanched, "You are . . . a. . . Begnoir-Bueford?!?"

Loosening his cravat with a deep sigh, Lafayette answered, "I am, and it is a hell of a lot larger _nom_ than Crowe to carry 'bout. _Vraiment,_ I deem it thoroughly enjoys enterin' a _chambre_ afore _moi_." Flicking the top buttons of his shirt open, he kicked a small stone, grumbling, "Times are I plain miss Missouri where people liked _moi_ for _moi_ , and not for _m_ _'_ title and _qu'elle_ they might get from _moi_."

Taking in the crestfallen man before him, who had laughed a majority of the way here, a hot streak of guilt ran straight down Jonathon's back as he told himself. 'I am as bad as those he is speakin' of. Did I not try to earn his friendship for the sheer prospect of purchasing horses?' Stepping forward, he placed a hand on Lafayette's shoulder, "Then, how about I just call you Crowe?"

Lafayette's head shot up, a smirk of joy brightening his face, "You would do that?"

"Sure." Jonathon chuckled, "Gladly."

"That means you believe I am not a bunco artist?"

Jonathon glanced at Lafayette's home, "Oh, most assuredly."

The smirk became a full-fledged dimpled smile, and throwing his arm about Jonathon's shoulders, Lafayette announced, " _Bonne!_ Then if'n, you can overlook _m'_ lineage." The smile faltered, "as others seem unable to do, I have an inkling, we could become _magnifique_ _amis_."

"I shall overlook it, and I have the same inkling."

Unlocking the garden gate, Lafayette led them in, and as they walked through the vibrant, plush garden, Jonathon searched for the source of the burbling water. As they entered the home's secret inner courtyard, he expected to find an ornate fountain. Instead, it was a dark-haired lady reclining on a chaise lounge.

She lay draped in a rabbit fur coverlet that did little to hide the curvaceous landscape of her body. He knew he should look away but found he could not, and all else faded before her thick dark lashes, pert upturned nose, and parted berry red lips. Taking a stiff breath through his nose, Jonathon thought, ‘she is simply the most gorgeous female I have ever seen,' he thought, his eyes tracing the line of her arm down to the delicate hand dangling free, its fingers seeming to reach for the book that in sleep had slipped from her grasp.

"I see, she has captured yet another _une_."

With his heart pounding in his chest, Jonathon turned resentful eyes on Lafayette, his mind screaming at him, 'I suppose she too is his. . ." His features shifted to ashen stone, 'why would she not be? He has everything else.'

Whistling low, Lafayette slowly shook his head, " _Feu de l'enfer_ , she went straight to your heart. Alas, Jonathon, I do feel for you…she is naught to _moi_ other than _m' bane_ and _mon… bébé_ _sœur_."

Jonathon's face softened, his mouth falling open as he gasped for air, and leaping forward, he hissed, "your sister!"

With a nod, Lafayette stepped warily from his newfound friend.

Following fast, Jonathon grabbed him by the shoulders. "She is your sister, my God, Crowe, your sister. Why, how wonderful!"

" _Doux Jésus_ , let _moi_ go, and I will introduce you," Lafayette replied, a low mirthless chuckle rumbling from him. "Even so, I warn you," He shot a look at Joséphine, "she will steal your soul away."

Walking across and scooping up the book, he mumbled, "terrible way to treat the Bard's work." Smoothing the pages, he laid the volume on a small cast iron table, and then, placing his hands behind his back, he leaned in, whispering in Joséphine’s ear, "Be decorous. I have a _visiteur_ who wishes to be _présenté_."

Joséphine's eyes popped open, "Lafe! _Zut!_ You just scared a good year off my life."

"Turn around can be fair play, _m' chérie_."

Her eyes crawled across his face, noting the pinched look about his eyes, she knew, at once, he was counterfeiting friendliness. "I will not be a participant to whatever game you are playin'." Shoving him, she leapt to her feet, the coverlet crumpling to the ground to reveal she wore only a simple, white chemise gown.

Snagging the coverlet, Lafayette wrapped it about her, hissing, "You best go in this _seconde_."

Enjoying his flustered discomfiture, she grinned, "I thought you wished to introduce me."

Through his gritted teeth, he ground out, "I did not realize you were _indécent_." Peeking over his shoulder, he saw Jonathon, much too intently, studying the statue of Demeter in the fountain. Frowning, Lafayette thought, ' _Feu de l'enfer,_ I would say he already got a right _bonne_ view.' Shifting his eyes back to Joséphine, he growled, "Inside!"

Haughtily she tossed her head, replying, "I am goin'." Yet, when she passed Jonathon, his eyes met hers, and she halted mid-step, her hand coming to her chest as she thought, 'I ain't ever seen such eyes.' Then, without realizing it, she was walking to him.

Reaching to set her back on course, Lafayette noted their mirrored expressions. "Well, well, _qu'elle_ have we here?"

His question was left unanswered, for he had ceased to exist to Jonathon and Joséphine, that is, until his deep baritone laughter flooded the courtyard, and they both jumped, their cheeks flaming up red.

"Evidently, I am obliged to _présenté_ y'all despite the dictates of decency." His amusement had his voice sounding almost musical, as he said, " _Monsieur_ Jonathon Burgess, this here is _m'_ _petite sœur_ , _Mademoiselle_ Joséphine Michèle Antoinette. I suppose I should also apologize for the pair of'n us interruptin' her afternoon respite and thus, catchin' her so unawares."

Smiling like a fool on parade, Jonathon stammered, "Good… Day... Miss Crowe... I deeply apologize if, in any way, I have disturbed you. Yet, Ma 'am, I am beyond delighted to make your acquaintance."

"And I, you," she replied, brushing an escaped strand of hair from her face. " _S'il vous plaît,_ call me, Joséphine."

"I am at your bidding, Miss Crowe. However, it sure would be improper, at this time, for me to call you by your given name. And yet still, do not doubt, I am at your bidding."

Joséphine's smile appeared. Not the perfect fake one she used for meet and greets; her sincere smile, the one which brought forth every ounce of her personality and loveliness. " _M._ Burgess, do you mean that?"

"I, certainly, do," Jonathon replied, taking a step closer. "More than any declaration I have ever made."

She took a step toward him, her chest heaving beneath her fists grasping tight of the rabbit fur drape.

Deeming this had gone far enough, Lafayette slid between the pair, "be best to head for your _chambre,_ Jo, perhaps to find proper attire."

Sucking in her lower lip, she giggled, racing across the cobblestones and up the garden stairs. Outside her room, she paused to share a final look with Jonathon before darting in.

Tossing his hat on the chaise lounge, Lafayette ran both hands back through his hair, considering, ‘well, it seems rather than findin' myself an _ami,_ I may have just fulfilled Father's demand to find Jo a _mari_.' Sliding a leather thong off his wrist, he gathered his hair, tying it into a tail that hung down between his shoulder blades. "Shall we go in?"

Jonathon remained frozen.

Grouchily, Lafayette snapped, "Hey!"

Flushing the bright crimson that is unique to those of fair complexion, Jonathon stammered, "My apologies, did you say something?"

Releasing a groaning sigh, Lafayette draped an arm about Jonathon's shoulders, "I conjecture, if'n you are a mind to stare after _m' sœur_ like Romeo lost, then I am obliged to invite you into _déjeuner_ and to meet _m' famille_."

"Well, I… uhm... that is." Jonathon's attention switched to the double doors, Joséphine had disappeared behind.

"Oh, just come the hell inside," Lafayette said, steering Jonathon through the downstairs courtyard door. "Besides, I deem you need a _bonne_ , stiff drink."


	50. Chapter FORTY-SEVEN

Chapter Forty-Seven

**Thursday 5 th of April 1860**

Since dusk, Lafayette had been bellied up to a green felt top in the Red Crescent Saloon with the same five players. Hearing the Cathedral bells chiming midnight, he paused in mid-shuffle, a line from Macbeth rising from the recesses of his memory, ' _something wicked this way comes.'_ Glancing around at the men, he frowned, wondering why it had come to him, and began dealing.

Sitting to his left was Thomas Alvert, a diminutive man who consistently fidgeted with his currency. Much earlier in the night, Lafayette had concluded when Alvert shifted his money into specific arrangements; it revealed his opinion of his cards. Having broken down Alvert's patterns, the man had long ago ceased being a challenge.

Next on the deal was Jonathon Burgess, Lafayette's boon companion, and it was not unusual for them to enjoy coffee and beignets as the sun came up over the Mississippi River. Despite their familiarity, Lafayette still had not figured out how to read Jonathon at a poker table, and it dug at Lafayette.

Deciphering a person was at least three-quarters of the enjoyment he got from playing. Most times, within a couple of hours, he could read a players’ tells as easy as the headlines at a newsstand. But not Jonathon. Still, given time Lafayette knew, he would discover his friend's Achilles. Besides, the way Jonathon was courting Joséphine, the man would soon enough be his brother-in-law. So, conceivably, he had all the time ever needed to figure him out.

After Jonathon was a boatman by the name of Mitchum, he was built like a barrel, and there was little doubt he had been up-and-down the big muddy river, more times than he could count. Lafayette had even come to wonder if Mitchum could count past ten or even read for that matter. Him being uneducated bothered Lafayette little. Then again, it did bother him whenever a man sat in on a game smarter than his self. For he, earnestly believed, a man should know his limits, and in this case, the players surrounding Mitchum were well above his cap.

Jean LaBeau, a Cajun who had come to town on business and stayed for poker, was the fourth player. LaBeau began the evening as a decent player, his distinctive charisma making him a challenge to decode; that is until he had gotten too deep into his cups. Then he had begun smiling whenever he had a decent hand, and the better the spread, the bigger the smile.

A few rounds back, LaBeau ordered a fourth bottle of wine, and Lafayette queried, "Jean, you positive you do not wish to share your _vin_ with the _filles_?" The Cajun had licked his lips, eyed the scantily clad women, but stayed at the table. Then with a nod, Lafayette had counseled, 'Well, you _,_ _vraiment,_ ought to break off smilin' so grandly each time _Mademoiselle_ Fate favors you any.' His warning earned him LaBeau's gratitude and an odious glare from Mitchum.

The last player was a tightly compacted, bantam Irish man, whom Lafayette had met his first day in the _Veux Carré,_ named Connor Shelly. These past months, he had played poker many times with Conner and knew he was not one to buck luck in the least. The only time Connor did not fold was when he had a sure-fire win. His technique was so obvious; the other players swiftly learned if he was sticking, they might as well toss in, for the pot was already his. Except here and there, Lafayette would stay with him, even through Connor's high bids, much to the others dismay.

Dealing Connor his fifth card, and then one for himself, Lafayette set the deck aside, casually watching the other men.

Alvert shifted his coins.

Lafayette thought, 'he has least _duex_ face cards.'

Jonathon matched the accounts three-dollar bid in the pot, his face as blank as a new slate board.

Mitchum dropped his in, accompanied by a mumbled line of curses.

LaBeau gulped from his wine bottle, tossing in money.

Collecting his money, Connor deposited his cards into the pot and standing, said, "Lads, I be done in for this night."

Lafayette passed him a small, nodding smile and watched him stroll away to the back of the saloon. Then picking up his own cards, he discovered the jack of spades followed by three, four, six, and seven of clubs. Laying them in a neat pile, he deposited three dollars to the center; and grinning, he upped the bid by five

Alvert shifted in his seat before gingerly adding his five.

Jonathon dropped his in and, knowing Lafayette was trying to read him, flashed his pal a toothy smile. "Anything?"

Lafayette shook his head, "I will figure _you_ out; wait and see."

"I am sure you will." Jonathon smiled even brighter "Although, it shall not be tonight."

Mitchum resembled a tragedy mask as his eyes slid over the men around him and back to his cards.

Watching him, Lafayette thought, ' _Par Dieu_ , I hope he ain't tryin' to draw to an inside straight again.' Then chuckled to himself, 'You is a fine _une_ to judge when here you are bluffin' on the same odds.'

Just as everyone felt sure Mitchum was folding, he pushed out five dollars, as if it physically pained him, and it might have considering how little he had left.

LaBeau eyed the growing pot with chuckled adoration and set his cards before Lafayette, returning happily to his wine.

"How many, Alvert?" Lafayette asked, his clipped Missouri accent sounding out of place at the tense table.

" _Duex_."

Lafayette passed him two.

"Slide me three, Crowe."

Lafayette did so with a grin.

Mitchum snarled, "Three damn you!"

Shooting the boatman, a rough look, Lafayette dealt him the cards before taking one for himself. Then unsure why he did it, he winked at Mitchum.

LaBeau saw him and guffawed, cheering, " _Oui, Monsieur_ , _vous_ show this turtleback how it is played."

Swapping out the jack for his new card, Lafayette bit back his rogue grin and was glad he had because Jonathon was eyeing him thoughtfully.

Mitchum prodded Alvert, his tone full of threat, "Ya plan on bidding?"

"How about two dollars," Alvert answered, not meaning it to be a question, but the tremor in his voice sure made it sound that way.

Jonathon steady as spring rain slid a pair of coins to the center.

Mitchum threw his on the pile, throwing a glower to Lafayette that said, 'I just dare you to raise the bid again.'

Taking no heed, Lafayette tossed in two and counting, at least ten dollars in front of the boatman; he dropped ten on the pile. As he did, he once more winked at Mitchum, "I call."

Alvert folded without hesitation.

Jonathon dropped in ten just as quickly.

Mitchum snarled, slapping ten dollars into the pot before fanning his cards on the table, "Four tens are what I got… _Monsieur._ " The way he said _monsieur_ , he might as well have been calling Lafayette any number of derogatory names, and it would have sounded the same. His hand was better than Jonathon's spread, and with a chortle, he reached for the pot.

"Rein in," Lafayette drawled, pushing his hat, so it rested on the back of his head and then, with a devil's grin, flipped his cards out one by one: three, four, five, six and seven of clubs. "I would say that belongs to _moi_."

"Hellfire, Crowe." Jonathon moaned, standing up. "You did that on ONE card?!"

Lafayette's face split into his wide, dimpled smile.

"I am through playing with you for the night," Jonathon shook his head, "One card?"

Lafayette nodded, his smile growing more brazen.

Pocketing his funds, Jonathon said, "I am going to rid myself of drink, then I will meet you out front."

Lafayette again nodded and stood to gather his belongings.

Mitchum's narrowed eyes followed Jonathon as he wove off through the crowd before locking on the bankroll Lafayette was leaning out to rake in. Then, with a grunt, his hand shot forward, clamping around Lafayette's throat. "Ya yellow bastard sharp! Ya slick dealt those cards."

LaBeau's drunken laughter filled the air, and from a corner of his eye, Lafayette saw Alvert jump clear so fast, he might have left some of himself in the chair.

Mitchum's thick, calloused fingers dug deeper into Lafayette's windpipe.

Unfortunately, snatching hold of Mitchum's wrist caused him to clench tighter, and with spots dancing before his eyes, Lafayette put forth a tremendous heave, launching himself across the table, his entire weight landing on Mitchum.

The unexpected move caught the boatman off guard and having gained the high ground; Lafayette punched Mitchum between the eyes; even as the table flipped, sending currency, drinks, and cards pin-wheeling through the air.

The pair of them rolled across the floor, trying to crush the life out of one another until falling apart, they burst to their feet.

A crowd circled up, cheering, and placing bets.

With a snarl, Lafayette ran at Mitchum, catching him about the middle, and as they barreled across the room, the crowd followed, urging them on.

This time as they grappled in the sawdust, exchanging blow for blow, Lafayette believed all was going in his favor; until he felt the boot-rail around the bar's base slam against his back.

"I have ya now, ya _fils de put,_ " Mitchum growled, jerking Lafayette up and plowing his head against the brass rail, making it ring out like a church bell.

Lafayette bucked, fighting to break free.

With a maniacal grin, Mitchum, once more, slammed Lafayette’s skull into the rail.

A hot, splintering, burst of light shot through Lafayette's head and he fearfully thought, 'If'n, I do not get 'em off _moi;_ the bastard is goin' bust _m'_ skull wide-open.'

"Learn ya to cheat a man, I will."

Twisting frantically, the smooth, ivory handle of his boot blade skimmed by Lafayette's fingers as Mitchum lifted him for the third time. When the unyielding rail met with his back, pain raced through him, and an enraged roar erupted from Lafayette. Lunging for the blade, his hand wrapped about its hilt, and with a spastic jerk, he pulled it, shoving the sharp edge to Mitchum's neck.

"Oh, Ho! Ya want it this way." Mitchum roared, leaping back, and pulling an equally long blade. "Come on, me _joli_ _monsieur_ , let us continue our dance."

Lafayette shoved from the ground, staggering to his feet with the room sashaying around him and his ears ringing like a fire brigade bell, and before he was steady, Mitchum charged.

Sidestepping at the last second, Lafayette's fist wrapped about the ivory hilt slammed into Mitchum's nose, and beneath his knuckles, he felt the satisfying crunch of bones giving way.

Blood gushed down Mitchum's front, and he stumbled.

With a grunt of fury, Lafayette drove a fist in the man's neck, kneeing him in the kidney's, and as he dropped, the boatman's knife spun across the floor, disappearing amongst those watching.

Gulping for air, Mitchum struggled to rise; before he could, Lafayette kicked him over, dropping a knee on his sternum. "A _melee_ can sure get a man's blood up; would you not agree?" Lafayette asked, using his blade to raise Mitchum's chin.

The man's eyes rolled to the crowd; seeing no one planned to intervene, he grunted, "yes _."_

Putting pressure on the blade, Lafayette said, "I seem to recall you declarin' I was a sharp yellow bastard. Those were your words, were they not?"

Mitchum's dirt brown eyes rolled in their sockets.

"Well?!"

Licking his lips, Mitchum mumbled, "Ya were not cheatin'."

"Louder."

"Ya were not cheatin'!"

"And!"

"My apologies, _M._ Crowe."

Slapping him on the cheek, Lafayette flicked his wrist, giving Mitchum a reminder scar as he released him. "Get the fuck out of _m'_ sight."

Once Mitchum slunk out the door, Lafayette heaved a sigh and, crossing the room, bent to retrieve his hat.

"Crowe! Behind you!"

He only got half-turned; regardless, it was enough to see Mitchum's leering smile, right before he was shoved to his knees. There was a pounding sound in his ears and a red stain spreading across his gold, brocade vest. From the other side of the crowd, he could see Jonathon shoving his way nearer. Confused, he looked from Jonathon to the spreading stain, 'Why is it all so quiet…' and his eyes rolled up.

"I am to gut ya pompous ass," Mitchum said, pulling a knife from Lafayette and switching his grip; he raised his arm to strike. Before he could, he flew backward, losing this second blade, the same way as the first.

Climbing to his feet, Mitchum turned on the man who had hit him. "Why that was quite foolish of ya."

"Nah, I ain't be havin' me a decent fight in a while," replied Lafayette's defender, and with a wild laugh, the much smaller man dove into Mitchum, skipping and whirling with pugilistic skill. His rapid, deft blows irritating the boatman while drawing him further from Lafayette.

Frustrated Mitchum, howled, "I will smash ya like a bug."

"Ah, ye be thinkin' yeself a fine prince." The fighter taunted, laying a punch upside Mitchum's head and smoothly ducking a wild haymaker. "Be thinkin' ye will find it a wee bit harder fightin' a man who be standin'." Then darting in like a wasp, the Irish man pummeled Mitchum's ribcage with rabbit punches before spinning clear, with his shoulder-length dark-red hair flying about him like demon's wings. "Ye be a big boy, but ye be slow." He taunted, leaping in, nailing the boatman with an uppercut that nearly knocked him over.

Shaking his head like a bull, Mitchum roared, "I will fuckin' kill ya, ya damn Mick." Then from somewhere on his person, he pulled, yet another blade.

"I have no blade. And me, Boyo, be already bleedin' his life out on the floor, thanks to ye. So, I be thinkin'; it be high time to end our dance." Reaching back into next week, he threw a punch that was heard throughout the Crescent when it connected with Mitchum's jaw.

Spittle and blood flew from the boatman's mouth; his head lolling back at a grotesque angle and slow as melting ice, he slid to the floor.

The crowd stood silent before erupting in riotous cheering and exchanging betted winnings.

The little Irish fighter shoved past his congratulators to kneel by Jonathon at Lafayette's side, "shall we be for gettin' Mister Crowe outs of here?"

Jonathon stared open-mouthed at Connor Shelley.

"Snap to, me Boyo, this not be the place for Mister Crowe in his condition."

Jonathon nodded, and between them, they hauled Lafayette to his feet.

Lafayette moaned, “ _Qu’elle diable_ happened?”

"That son-of-a-bitch backstabbed you," Jonathon answered. "Can you walk?"

"I believe so." Lafayette replied, managing a weak smile, " _merci beaucoup_ for steppin' in, Jonathon. I owe you."

"Not me," Jonathon nodded to Connor. "He saved you."

Turning to see who was on his right, Lafayette found the movement was a bad idea and did not get a decent look before blacking out.


	51. Chapter FORTY-EIGHT

Chapter Forty-Eight

Awakening with a lurch, Lafayette gagged. Bolting up, he swung his feet to the floor, the contents of his stomach spilling from him. " _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ ," he moaned, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, his dark eyes scanning the empty, luxuriant room. "Where am I?"

Staying hunched over, scared to move, he tried considering where he might be, except his head throbbed with such a blinding intensity; he could hardly think. Taking a long slow breath, he sat up, but when he reached to rub his forehead, a gut-wrenching fire expanded from his right side. Positive he was going to retch again, Lafayette gripped the bed's coverlet, his laborious, panting breaths filling the quiet room.

When without warning, the doorknob rattled.

Holding his breath, Lafayette slid his eyes to the closed door, thinking, ' _s'il vous plaît_ , let that be Jonathon.'

Instead, it was a man, who looked out of line with the high-priced suite, elbowing his way in, bearing a pile of towels and a steaming pitcher. "Ye be awake. That be a good sign." The man said, placing the pitcher on the bedside table while tossing the towels on the bed, and snagging one, he threw it on the floor. Then with a shake of his head, he stepped on it, sopping up the vomit.

Bewildered, Lafayette stared his mouth hanging a bit a jar.

With a tilt of his head, the man’s deep-set eyes studied Lafayette. "Ye be not calling to mind who I be?"

Lafayette blinked, still finding it hard to think beyond his agonies.

Gathering his hair from his face, the man tied it into a tail, one eyebrow slanting at a disapproving angle.

Lafayette limply nodded, "I do know you…" Closing his eyes, he took a breath, then said, "Connor. . .. Connor Shelley."

"Sure, look it." Connor answered, lighting the bedside lamp, "perhaps ye brainpans not too addled."

Opening his eyes, Lafayette squinted, his face pinching while he thought, _'Pa_ _r Dieu_ , I hurt... fuckin' everywhere. And _oui,_ I know Connor, 'cept not enough for 'em to be here in this room with _moi_. Why is he here?'

Hitching his thumbs in his braces, Connor rocked back into his heels. "Mister Crowe, if I be planning ye harm, I would have already been about it." Receiving no response, Connor looked down and away, gently asking, "So, be ye, or be ye not going to let me assist ye?"

Still not feeling trusting, Lafayette grunted, "Where am I?"

"Why in the lovely Hotel St. Charles," Connor replied, gesturing to the deep evergreen and gilt gold room. "Ye Boyo, Jonathon, he done set ye up in this fine palace, while he be hustling up a bone mender."

Rolling the information over, Lafayette considered the blood covering him, and his tongue darted across the ragged cut on his lower lip, " _Qu'elle_ happened to Mitchum?"

Flexing a bicep, so it bulged, Connor replied, "I be a-thinkin', he shall not be for bothering ye again."

Lafayette's brows pulled together.

"I have a certitude; I permanently mustered 'em out of action." Connor shook his head, "whole reason I be considering leaving the pugilist ring, be 'cause I got me a murderous left. I be regretful to say; I absolutely mean murderous."

All at once, Lafayette's mouth felt too dry to swallow, and he shifted his eyes from Connor.

"He done chose his path, he did. Do not be feelin' bad."

Lafayette nodded, thinking, 'not so sure if'n I do feel _mal_.'

"Mister Crowe . . .?"

Lafayette's gaze returned to Connor.

"I surely be meaning ye no harm."

"Mitchum was goin' to…" Lafayette licked at his lip again, ". . . murder _moi._ "

Connor nodded.

"You stepped in."

"Felt it be the right action at the time."

"But why risk yourself?"

Connor shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed, "ain't many treated me equal, right from the start, as you have."

Lafayette's Adam's apple bobbed, a flush creeping into his pale face. " _Merci beaucoup,_ and, Connor, _mes apologies_ for _m'_ behavior here and now."

"That be fine. Ye be not feeling yeself." Connor answered, rolling up his sleeves. "How about we be for preparing ye for the bone mender, by getting them filthy rags off ye?"

Heaving out a sigh, Lafayette set to unloading his pockets: wallet, silver and blue lapis lazuli rosary, pocket watch, match tin, and a silver liquor flask engraved with his initials and _fleur-de-lis_. His nose wrinkled at his cigarette makings swamped with blood, and he let them drop to the floor, thinking, ' _Zut_! I could use a smoke.' Recollecting his case of cigarillos, he felt, again, of his pockets. 'Ah, Hades, it was on the table by _m'_ drink.' Releasing a solid snort, he glared at the gummy lump of tobacco on the floor.

A warm laugh tumbled from Connor, and removing his kit, he rolled a quirley, and lighting it, handed it over.

Taking the twisted cigarette and inhaling deep, Lafayette felt the smoke swirl into his lungs. " _Merci beaucoup. Par Dieu,_ I needed that _."_

A smile the sort a friend plays out when they are happy to be there for you appeared on Connor's face, and all at once, Lafayette felt as if they had known each other always and smiled back just as wide and genuine.

"I see we be sharing the same religions."

Lafayette frowned, just a bit, and Conner pointed to the rosary covering the flask, "Oh! _Mon Mams_ would have something to say, 'bout classing whiskey beside _Dieu._ "

Connor grinned like a magpie, the same warm laugh rolling from him, again, "she be most likely right, but getting you down to the skin…. well, I be thinking we shall require a bit of religion, to keep ye steady. Which one ye be a mind to rely on?"

With a nod, Lafayette replied, "both!" Twirling the rosary about his left hand and removing the flask's lid, but before taking a drink, he said, "And, Connor, I want you to call _moi_ , Lafe. _Non_ more Mister Crowe _connerie_."

What Connor had said turned out to be accurate, for removing the frock coat, vest, and shirt about raped Lafayette of his fortitude, and well before they were done, he desperately wished his flask was not, already, dry.

Having wiped the grime and blood away while pointedly ignoring the tears dripping from his newfound friend's ashen face, Connor stepped back and, removing his own flask, he placed it in Lafayette's hand. "I, too, been hurt bad. I know how it be." 

Lafayette grunted, " _merci._ " His nose scrunched at the coal oil taste of the low barrel alcohol, but he continued swallowing until every drop of the whiskey had burned a path down through him, the pain taking a small step backward.

Once again, rocking back on his heels, Connor woefully shook his head. "Lafe, me boyo, I seen men be lookin' worse after a brawl" He shook his head with a sly grin. "By the Saints, that brute sure did a right fine job of knockin' the dapper off ye."

Lafayette started to smile and winced, his face feeling just as terrible as the rest of him, "Still, _merci beaucoup_ for your efforts."

A sharp, hard knock broke their easy, companionable feeling, and leaping to the door, Connor asked, "Who it be?" A small, wickedly curved knife appearing in his hand.

"Jonathon."

Concealing the knife, Connor swung the door open.


	52. Chapter FORTY-NINE

Chapter Forty-Nine

A florid-faced man, who had the appearance of having been abducted from his bed, stumbled into the room, followed by Jonathon Burgess wearing a rigid, arduous expression. In a voice thick with frustration, Jonathon said, "Gentlemen, let me introduce Dr. George Belfew."

The doctor's eyes blinked rapidly, darting from the crimson pile of clothing to Lafayette. "Gracious, you have lost a good deal of blood, young man."

A feeble smile played across Lafayette's lips, "suppose it reasons, you will find it unnecessary to leech _moi_."

Belfew peered bitterly at Lafayette over his half-moon glasses, "I will have you understand leeching is a mania of the past. I use the utmost modern practices."

Jonathon interceded, furrowing his brow at his soon to be brother-in-law, "Dr. Belfew, he meant no harm."

" _Bonne Docteur_ , it was merely _m'_ failed attempt to lighten the mood. I am _vraiment_ grateful you have come to _m'_ aid, and I am aptly prepared to reimburse your graciousness."

The apology or, perhaps the bulging wallet lying on the bed, soothed the man, but, either way, Belfew set down his medical bag. "Jonathon, I do not know why. I agreed to let you pull me from my home at this hour." Belfew said, glancing toward the curtained window, "this time of night is only for thieves and miscreants; it is purely everything I stand against."

Jonathon nodded tiredly, "Once more, Dr. Belfew, I am most grateful."

The man's red-rimmed eyes rose up to Jonathon, "You should know, I came solely out of respect to your Father."

Jonathon's smile pulled tight as if he needed to warm it up before using it, "And, again, I thank you for coming."

"I will inform him of _all_ this after church Sunday," Belfew replied, turning a dark glare Connor's way, "along with whom you have been keeping company."

"I understand," Jonathon answered, his patience near breaking. "However, Dr. Belfew, I implore you." He extended a hand toward his friend's oozing side and only then noticed the left dimple pulsating in Lafayette's gray, inscrutable face.

Fussily, Belfew set about his examination. "Young man, you should feel highly ashamed, look how your use of evil liquor has brought you so low, mightily abusing the temple the Lord gifted upon you."

Snorting, Lafayette thought, 'Fuckin' hypocrite, he reeks of rum, insults Connor, belittles Jonathon and all the while actin' like he is a gift from Mt. Sinai.', 'and he _vraiment_ expects _moi_ to grovel like a penitent.'

Straightening, Belfew's large jowls settled into his neck as he eyed Lafayette, "Do you have naught remorse?"

One eyebrow twitched, the dimple flickering faster.

Unclasping his bag, Belfew rummaged through his medical supplies. "Then, I shall do what I can, but you should most certainly pray for the Lord to pity you."

Lafayette shifted, the silver of his rosary, twisted about his fist, glinting in the golden light of the room.

Seeing it, Belfew fell back as if scalding water were thrown in his face, shouting, "you brought me to a _papist_!!!!"

The slump disappeared from Jonathon's tired stance, and he looked sharp from Belfew to Lafayette and back.

"Not in all my days have I tended to a repugnant, fish-eater." Snatching hold of his coat, Belfew stormed for the door. "For pity sake, Jonathon… a Catholic! What were you thinking?" Jabbing a finger at Lafayette and Conner, he howled, "Not now and not ever!"

The echo of the slamming door hung in the room.

Staring open-mouthed at the door's smooth surface, for the briefest moment, Jonathon considered running after Belfew.

Lafayette's tight, weary voice shattered Jonathon’s reflection as he said, "Quite the delightful _Monsieur_ you brought for a _visitez_."

Turning back, Jonathon shrugged, "You think so?" Tossing his coat across the end of the bed, he began rolling up his sleeves. "If you liked that performance," Jonathon grinned, "wait for my act two; I just know I can achieve even better."

Lafayette snorted, “now, _qu’elle_?’

"Well…" Jonathon carried the tall back desk chair over, placing it close to the bed. "I attended more than my fair share of medical expositions while in Europe. Found them fascinating, even talked to Father about becoming a Doctor, when I returned." Unwinding the catgut from a stock card, he smiled at Lafayette, "He laughed, right in my face, as his way of saying no."

Lafayette nodded; his eyes riveted on the needle Jonathon was threading. "Are you intendin' to sew _moi_ up?"

"You have another suggestion; I will act on it," Jonathon replied, jabbing a thumb toward Lafayette's side. "We leave that as it is, you are libel to bleed out."

Closing his eyes and feeling weakness only being staved back by the anger Belfew had stoked in him, Lafayette wished like mad Jackson were here.

"Crowe?"

The dark eyes opened, full of pain and weariness.

"Well?"

"I have none _._ "

"Then, shall I do it?"

Lafayette raised his chin higher, lightly quipping, "Do I trust you?"

Now a stranger would have taken the reply as playful. However, Jonathon was no stranger, and for the first time since Belfew had made his exit, he peered directly into his friend's face and did not like what he saw there. Exhaling slowly, he replied, "In our lifetimes, I swear, a day shall never dawn when you cannot trust me."

Lafayette nodded.

Jonathon reached for Lafayette's left arm. "I need you in the chair."

Forcing himself up, Lafayette grunted through gritted teeth, "I will do it," and stubbornly, he hobbled the short distance to the chair.

"Connor, would you, please, fetch me more hot water?"

Connor's, too close together, faded blue eyes tracked to Lafayette, as a soldier would to his General, and not one muscle moved until Lafayette nodded.

Watching their exchange, Jonathon suddenly felt alone, shoved aside. "Crowe. . .?" When Lafayette did not reply, Jonathon sucked in his lips, reasoning, 'does he truly no longer trust me? If so, will he decide I am unfit for Joséphine?' His heart beat faster, and squatting; he laid a hand on Lafayette's knee. "I did try to reach you. . . I was just too far away to stop Mitchum." He swallowed hard, "and tarnal, I had no idea Belfew felt as he did about--" He grimaced, "I just was not aware…"

As Jonathon stammered on, Lafayette watched him, and, for the first time, he could read the man, and what he saw was fear, cold, shivering unbridled fear. Taking a shallow breath, Lafayette quietly said, "Cease frettin' so, we are _bonne_."

"Truly?"

" _Mon_ temper tends to flare rather quickly at times." He laid a hand atop Jonathon's "with _moi_ an _ami_ is an _ami_ until the end. As I said, we are _bonne_. _Feu de l'enfer_ , you can even persist in courtin' that deceitful, vainglorious _sœur_ of mine."

"Hey! Do not be speaking so; Miss Joséphine is the absolute most amiable, thoughtful, sweet-tempered person I have ever had the pleasure of knowin'."

One eyebrow arched, "you ain't had the pleasure of knowin' her as I do. _Vraiment,_ I am a poor _ami_ allowin' you to court that treacherous _petite démon_."

Jonathon's eyes turned flat as frosted metal, the muscles in his neck standing out like ship lines. "Being her brother, you may say what you wish. Although the day is comin' when my status will change, and yours will be lower; then, my pal, we will have to review what you are allowed to say."

For a full moment, they stared like scorpions at one another; then, Lafayette looked away.

"Crowe…." Jonathon snorted, shaking his head sharp like a dog with a rag, "I was feelin' pretty damn bad, 'bout what I was fixin' to do to you."

Taking in Jonathon's twisted smile, Lafayette’s gut tightened, his eyes widening.

"But, since you cannot seem to cease impugning Miss. Joséphine, my love…" Malice filled out the smile, and Jonathon latched hold of the square of shirt fabric, still stuck to the wound. Ripping it away.

Bolting to his feet, Lafayette screeched, " _Pour l'amour de Dieu!_ Fuck! Oh, Fuck!"

"Suppose when we speak of this, we can call that my act two, which I will forevermore dedicate to my sweet, Joséphine." Throwing the bloody rag to the floor, Jonathon pointed at the chair. "Sit down, so I can get to work before you bleed out."

Dropping with a shudder, Lafayette gulped, "I do not consider myself quite ready." He panted, lolling his head back against the floral upholstery. "Fuck, but that hurt." When he looked down, Jonathon was still smiling evilly. "Additionally, I am thinkin' you need to calm down and remember we are nearly _famille_."

"And I am thinkin' from here on out, you will have a better understandin' of what not to say regardin' Miss Joséphine!"

Swallowing hard, Lafayette nodded.


	53. Chapter FIFTY

Chapter Fifty

Waking, this time, was like swimming to the surface of the pond back home after having taken a plunge from the rope swing. Taking a shallow breath, Lafayette tried to bring the room into better focus, and then it came to him, ' _mon_ right eye is swollen shut.'

A deeper breath and his bruised ribs reminded him of his injuries, and remaining still, he reviewed what he could recall of the fight and all that happened afterward. Laying there, he made out a steady rhythmic clicking to his right; when he turned to investigate, every muscle from his scalp to tailbone came excruciatingly awake, and he gasped, _"nom de Dieu."_

"Sure, look it," Connor chirped, "ye be deciding to rejoin us." He stood, tucking the intricate box; he had been carving into his coat pocket. "Suppose ye be feeling like ye been run down by a freight wagon?"

"Close, but worse," Lafayette replied, running his tongue across his teeth, contemplating the dark shadows shifting across the room.

"Ye, be all right?"

" _Oui._ " Lafayette's one good eye slid back to his friend. " _Qu'elle_ time, is it?"

Stepping to the bedside table, Connor picked up the gold pocket watch, placing it on Lafayette's chest.

It felt cold and heavy as a river rock, and Lafayette hesitated before clicking it open. "4:49! _Chiant,_ I have slept the day away."

"Boyo," Connor chuckled, "it be Saturday."

" _Qu'elle_!" Lafayette yelped, flinging his covers off and sitting up in one move. The room spun like a twisting bronc, and when he believed he would not blackout or retch, as he had done before, he mumbled, "Where are _m'_ clothes?"

Connor casually pointed to the bloody pile near the door.

" _Pour l'amour de Dieu;_ I cannot return home in those; the _filles_ would fall into conniptions." A new thought came to Lafayette. "Connor. . ? Jonathon did tell 'em where I was; did he not?"

Rubbing at his lower lip, Connor turned away. "He paced this here room 'till he about wore himself a path."

"And?"

"He decided. . ." Connor turned with a lopsided grin hanging on his face. ". . . ye should be the one a telling them."

" _Chiant!_ That damn, lousy coward!" Lafayette muttered, and with a shake of his head, a smile broke free only to become an agonized cringe; and he tenderly felt of his mouth.

"We both talked on it," Connor answered, slipping his thumbs in his braces. "We talked on it, and we be unable to come upon the proper words to be saying to ye lasses, and ye be here sleepin' it off and all…."

Heaving out a sigh, Lafayette held up his hand, "Just cease afore you dig a hole big enough for both of you to fit in." Rubbing a hand along his thigh, he took in the vibrant purple bruises ranging down the outside of his leg, thinking, 'I suppose Katharine is fit to be tied. _Feu de l'enfer,_ this is not going to earn _moi_ any marks with her.' He frowned, 'I cannot decide who she detests more, _moi_ or Jo for takin' her away from Sienna; she has become a hot boil wrapped in bitterness.' His frown deepened.

Moving closer, Connor's finely arched brows, dipped low, "Ye be wanting to lie back down?"

_"Non._ " Lafayette rolled his shoulders, fighting against the knots gathered there. "Where the hell is Jonathon?"

"He checked in on you this morning. But, he said, his father had requirements of him, and he could not be returning until tomorrow."

Lafayette's brows squished together, "You been here this whole time?"

"There be no one caring where I be."

Lafayette asked a bit too sharply, " _non famille?"_

Connor avoided the question by looking down, his low pulled mechanic's hat shadowing his eyes.

Back in Ireland before sorrow came for him, Connor Shelley had enjoyed a boisterous, joyful family, that is until the potato famine arrived in Kilkeel. After the first terrible season, his father had prayed the new year would bring a bountiful harvest. Regrettably, the next season was even more barren, and their Landlord had no concerns about how his tenants would feed their families, only for how they would pay their rents.

That second winter, the Shelley's like other families died off one by one from illness compounded by starvation and come spring; the Landlord decided it would be far more economical, for him, to force his remaining wraithlike tenants onto famine ships. So, it happened that on the hellish journey bound for the Americas, Connor's elder sister, his last family died, the day after he turned seven; and when the ship ported in New Orleans, he was carried from it, more dead than alive.

However, the charity of the Ursuline Nuns ensured Connor and the other children discarded like so much trash, survived. Along the way to coming of age, he being Irish was no sort of a blessing, and just as others did, he scrambled for pennies laboring long hours on the docks. The docks toughened him, strengthened him, and taught him an unusual skill; to be a pugilist. So, it became only when he could not find a pit boxing match, did he work the docks. His fight winnings allowed him to hold his head high and for others to step wary of him. Overall, it completed his lonely existence, as having others fear him did not encourage them to gather about as pals, and his earnings were not stable enough to consider creating a family.

Therefore, these past days helping Jonathon with Lafayette had, for the first time since he was a child in Kilkeel, made him feel needed, even wanted. Both were something he longed for, prayed for, an event that would rescue him from his life of loneliness, perhaps leading him to others who might love him.

Connor's downcast, stony expression had Lafayette doubting his self and peering over, through the sweep of his long hair, much like a child who remains partially hidden, when they are unsure, he quietly asked, "if'n I staked you, would you procure _moi_ clothin'?"

Connor nodded.

"I _vraiment_ appreciate all you have done, and I want you to also get yourself a suit."

Connor's eyes roved blandly over Lafayette, his face taking on the glum sadness of a porch hound.

" _Qu’elle?_ ”

“It be you wishing to reward me,” Connor answered. “I not be the sort to offer help with me hand held out.”

Ruddiness bloomed behind Lafayette’s bruises.

Then so low it was only a whisper, Connor said, “I be doing it as a pal would.”

Sitting straighter, Lafayette pushed his hair from his face. “I should have said this first. You and I come from different tiers of society…”

Connor slid back a step.

“ _Feu de l'enfer_ , that matters none to _moi_. You did for _moi_ as a _frère.”_ He extended his hand, “Connor, just like you was _mon_ own _frère._ ”

Connor’s mouth felt dry.

“Will you shake on it?” Lafayette’s eyebrows raised, “ _Frère?”_

Stepping forward, Connor took his hand, “you be meaning that?”

“A _famille_ is made up of more than blood, and a point you should know ‘bout _moi,_ I _jamais_ speak falsely, I mean _qu’elle_ I say.” Tilting his head, Lafayette smiled, just a bit, through the pain of his swollen, split lip, while gripping tight of Connor’s hand. “Now, as I was tryin’ to say,” He grinned more, his dimples appearing, “ _Frère,_ I am truly in further, desperate need of your assistance.” His eyes flicked to Connor’s gray, threadbare shirt that had once been white just as his gray pants had once been black. “except, it is goin’ to require you wearin’ a bit more…. uhm…. fashionable attire, which is why I shall foot the bill.”

Now, standing on the cobblestones in front of the three-story brick home, Connor thought again, how grand it felt each time Lafayette called him brother. Straightening his crisp new suit of clothes, he smiled and pulled the bell cord.

Within seconds, a tall, negro woman opened the door. A weary exhaustion hung on her face, wrapping itself about her words as she said, “ _Bonjour,_ _Monsieur_?”

“I be delivering a missive for Miss Katharine,” Connor answered, handing over the note Lafayette had written.

“Be it from _Maître_ Lafayette?”

“It be, Lass.”

“ _S’il vous plaît,”_ Odette replied, opening the door further, she motioned him in, “let _moi_ fetch, _Maîtresse_ Katharine, so _vous_ may deliver it personally. I am optimistic she will have further queries.”

Connor smiled, his eyes crinkling to slits, “Why thank ye lass, but he be giving me none endorsement for further answers. I done did; all Lafe sent me to.”

Odette’s keen eyes sharpened at hearing the man refer to her Master as Lafe, “ _vous_ is his _ami?_ Do come inside.”

“Ye be kind to ask, but no.” Tipping his hat, Connor smiled again. “Take ye care.”

Stepping out onto the walk, Odette set every detail of the little man in her mind as he disappeared, among others on the street. Backing into the house, she shook her head, shutting the door, and when she turned about, there was Joséphine.

“Was he here about Lafe?”

Odette held up the folded paper. “ _Oui,_ he delivered a message,” and before Joséphine could snag it, she tucked the note in her apron pocket, “it is not for _vous._ ”

Thrusting her open hand at Odette, Joséphine snapped, “give it to me!”

“It is for _Maîtresse_ Katharine.”

Both women’s eyes slanted to the staircase, and losing all decorum, they raced up, bursting into the room like a pair of chickens who had been run off a porch.

A startled squeak sprung from Katherine, and placing a hand to her chest, she asked. “Goodness _qu’elle_ has happened?”

Joséphine shouted, “She has word from Lafe,” her eyes following the paper Odette offered.

For the past two days, Katherine had pretended Lafayette’s choice to keep his own hours had not troubled her. That he was old enough to do as he wished and that included not checking in, but the truth was his absence had worried her dreadfully. Now holding the linen paper with her name written upon it, in the neat, tight handwriting she recognized as his, she released a sigh of relief.

Pushing closer, Joséphine cried, “for pity’s sake, open it…”

With a nod, Katherine did and clearing her throat, read aloud. “ _Mon Chérie, I beg your forgiveness for m’ absence. I pray it has not caused undue concern._ _S'il vous plaît_ _, inform the others I am well and shall return to y’all soon. Lafe_.”

Running a finger along the torn edge, where a letterhead must have been printed, Katharine’s mouth pulled into a frown. “It is all he has written. At least, we now know he is…,” she paused, not liking what had been on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive!” Joséphine finished, tears wetting her face. “Thank the Lord; he is alive.”


	54. Chapter FIFTY-ONE

Chapter Fifty-One

“Sure, look it,” Connor called, following Lafayette up the St. Louis Cathedral’s front steps as the tail notes of the bells, inviting them to morning mass, faded away. “I be thinking, ye should be joyous, ye not in there lying out in all ye splendor with Father Croix reading over ye.”

Lafayette briskly answered, “True, save you do not know _m’ filles._ ” Removing his hat, he glanced toward Connor, “ _Par Dieu,_ I might ‘en be requirin’ your protection, all over again, once they lay eyes on _moi.”_

Slipping through the thick, wood vestibule doors, they paused, dipping their fingers in the Holy font, and after crossing themselves; they rushed down the aisle, toward the Begnoir pew, with the sound of their boot heels chasing after them.

At the open pointing and gawking of the other parishioners, Lafayette yanked the tie holding his long hair, shaking it out to better conceal the vibrant patchwork of bruises decorating his face. Except, while doing so, he passed his family’s pew. Spinning, he dropped to a knee, sharing a crooked grin with Connor, who followed him. Rising together, from their sloppy genuflects, they stepped into the pew row, just as the altar boys entered, swinging golden incense burners.

Keeping hidden behind his curtain of black hair, Lafayette responded to Father Croix’s greeting until the moment arrived to sit. When he did, an angry spasm shot up his back, causing a convulsive jerk, and from his left, came a collective gasp, and he thought, ‘well, they have seen _moi_ now _._ ’

Keeping his eyes closed, Lafayette ignored his family, controlling his breathing as he struggled in agony. In truth, he heard very little said up to the proclamation to kneel for Eucharist. Exhaling a small smile, he thought, ‘Not much longer, and I can go lie down.’ Although, before he could enjoy this thought, his head snapped up, and he looked wide-eyed to Connor.

Quirking an eyebrow, Connor kept intoning, _“… and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."_

Dropping his shoulder to Connor, Lafayette hissed, “I did not attend confession.”

“Do not know what to be telling ye.”

When it came time for his pew to join the lines partaking of the Blessed Sacrament, Lafayette stepped out, allowing his family to pass. Turning, he gnawed at his split lip, taking in the faces of all who knew his family and recalled his Grandmother’s words from the first day they arrived. _‘I will not tolerate undisciplined, frontier manners, or for that matter, loose conduct of any sort. None of vous will, in any way, disgrace this maison. Vous will do honneur to your Crowe nom while proving what tributes each of vous is to your Begnoir-Bueford blood.’_ Feeling a bit sick, he clutched tight of his rosary, sinking to his knees.

Connor came racing back, yet, when he saw the blue beads slipping through Lafayette’s fingers, he gently gripped his shoulder, "Take heart, _Deartháir_."

Throughout the Cathedral, heads leaned together, whispering of a Begnoir not partaking of the Holy Sacrament, the sound becoming not unlike the distant hum of locusts.

However, Lafayette no longer heard it as sweat ran freely from his brow, the pain becoming a torment that swept through him like the blistering heat of a forge. Somewhere, as the beads passed through his fingers, tremors began in his spine and knees, leading his prayers to become a mixture of pleading for the strength to remain imploring forgiveness.

When a cool hand graced the top of his head, Lafayette opened his eyes to Father Croix’s sympathetic smile. “ _Vous_ has done enough _mon fils_. _Vous_ are _pardonné._ ” And, though the soft words were meant for Lafayette, they carried to the farthest recesses of the Cathedral. “Rise _m’ fils._ ”

As Father Croix aided Lafayette to his seat, he said, “I do believe, this glorious morning, we should raise our voices to the pleasing words of Jonathon Newton’s song.” Remaining with a hand on Lafayette’s shoulder, he looked out, his smile for all, as _“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me,”_ rose to the arched, intricately painted ceilings. Leaning close, Father Croix whispered, “We all make mistakes, _oui?”_

Lafayette nodded.

“The gift of a mistake, _m’ fils_ , is the ability to improve, not making the same unwise choices again. Do _vous_ agree?” Father Croix’s asked, his eyebrows rising, giving him a firmer, more commanding presence.

“ _Oui. Merci beaucoup, Père_ Croix.”

Patting Lafayette’s shoulder with a nod, Father Croix departed for the raised altar, acknowledging others along his way.

Once the final amen was said, Lorraine turned, with a charming smile, to Connor, now sitting beside her. “ _Monsieur_ , it would bring _moi_ great happiness to have _vous_ return to our _maison_ for _déjeuner_."

Connor’s pale eyes shifted to his friend, and when Lafayette nodded, he returned a beaming smile to Lorraine. “Ma’am, I be honored.”

Out in the aisle, Lorraine rejected her grandson’s offered arm, taking hold of Connor instead. "Do tell _moi_ what is your _nome_?"

“I be Connor Shelley, Ma’am.”

“Shelley? Like the poet. How delightfully wonderful,” she replied, leading him toward the sunlight flooding in through the vestibule doors.

“ _Oncle_?” Michaël said, offering Lafayette his hat he had forgotten under the pew. “Are _vous_ all right?”

“ _Merci,_ Mikey, _”_ Lafayette answered, taking the hat. “Will say… I do not feel quite _mon_ self.”

Michaël’s brown eyes rounded more as he stepped closer, peering up at the Uncle he so idolized, and there was a fearful quality to his voice when he asked, “ _Qu’elle_ happened to your face?”

With a smirk, Joséphine pertly said, “yes, Lafe, do tell."

Lafayette’s red-rimmed eyes flicked to his younger sister. “I will be fine, Mikey. I took on more than I could handle. Just remember, a man cannot always do all things alone.”

Michaël’s mouth twisted, unable to grasp the wisdom being imparted, still with a nod, he said, “I will remember, _Oncle_.”

“Michaël, _vous_ will walk with _moi_.”

The boy spun, shrinking back from the bristling glare his Mother was aiming at his Uncle, and with one long mournful, doe-eyed look, he went to her.

Edging closer, Joséphine asked, “so what exactly did you take on; you could not handle?”

Paying her no heed, Lafayette walked on.

Catching and pacing him, she said, “do you know I am furious with you?”

Focusing on placing one foot before the other, he continued without responding.

“That man… was he there? Did he help you?”

He kept walking in silence. Although he ducked away when he felt her hand on his collar before Joséphine could touch his aching head.

"Cease being ridiculous; I was only fixin' to brush dirt from your collar.”

“Do not need your assistance.”

“Course, you do not!” She huffed, brushing her hands together, and smearing blood across the palms of her gloves. The color leeched from her cheeks and barring his way; she held her glove before his face. "Is this blood?"

His mouth pulled into a tight line, and he nodded.

“ _Frère?!?”_

“Ain't nothing for you to get balled up over.”

He moved to step around her, and again she blocked him thinking, ‘beneath all them bruises… he is the color of skimmed milk.’

“Move out of _m’_ way."

She tilted her head, leaning in consideration, ‘and, there is sufferin’ in his eyes.’

His voice dropped to a whisper, “ _s’il_ _vous plaît,_ Jo.”

A tear worked free of her lashes. “Oh, Lafe…,” only, to be followed by two more.

Swiping his thumb across her cheek, he hissed, “Cease! You will draw _moi_ more unwanted attention.” Taking her arm, he spun her toward the doors. “Sides, I ain’t requirin’ you to put on _non_ show for _moi._ ”

“Are you deranged? I was so frightened by your not returnin’ home. I was furious with you. But, still, I was frightened.” Her eyes drifted to the red staining her gloves. "I have been terrified you were dead, and now, here is this blood."

His tongue darted out, wetting the split in his lower lip, and he exhaled, “Well, hush, I was not dead and ain’t I right here. You wanted to know if’n Connor was there. _Oui,_ he was. He saved _m’_ life.”

Leading her through the door, he missed her reaction as the morning sun seared his brain like a hot poker. Pulling free, he set his hat at just the right angle to shield his eyes.

“You mean, all the terrible thoughts I been havin’ were, practically, true?”

“Do not. . . ” He squinted at her, not up to a battle. Yet when he read both love and fear in her amber eyes, a frown flitted across his face, and he looked away. “Joséphine. . . Jo. . . I came damn close to cashin’ in.”

She inhaled sharp.

“And. . . ‘bout now, I see more clearly what is important and that. . .,” he turned the ring round and round, he had taken to wearing, on his little finger. “Well, I see, I have been unduly harsh with you.”

Her lower lip quivered, “are you forgivin’ me?”

Without looking up, he shrugged.


	55. Chapter FIFTY-TWO

Chapter Fifty-Two

"Every night, I prayed we could be as before." Joséphine clung to his hand, sniffing hard. "I suppose you do not believe me. But _Frère,_ I ain't ever wanted anything, as much as us being _amis_ again. Also, I want you to know, I understand--"

"Jo, there ain't _non_ need."

She squeezed his hand, "You must let me have my say."

He looked away, but when he looked back, she was still staring at him, and he relented with a nod.

"You were always correct; you are my truest _ami._ The loss of your friendship has been the worst sort of punishment. And I apologize for strikin' and embarrassin' you in front of _all_ our neighbors."

His nostrils flared as he thought, 'Humph, so all this time, she has believed that was all I been holdin' against 'er.'

"Wait!" Her teeth drug across her lower lip, "That ain't all. I also apologize for forcin' you to throw your beliefs, principles, and impartiality in the dirt. And, for losin' your enrollment to Transylvania University, gettin' you banned from Missouri, and separated from Taddy and Jackson."

Slowly, he nodded, considering, 'perhaps she is understandin' a portion of _qu'elle_ I lost.'

"And, Lafe _Frère_ , if'n I missed anything else, I am honestly apologetic for that, too."

"Well, in that case, I suppose I _pardonner_ you."

An irresistible, devastating smile radiated from Joséphine and seeing her; thus, it came to him how much his coldness had wilted her. "Truth is I have missed you," he took her in his arms, "and I should have _pardonner_ you long ago. _Mes excuses;_ I was being foolishly obstinate."

"For once, you had good reasons to be pig-headed."

"For _once_? Pig-headed?" He frowned, but not able to hold it, he chuckled.

Her laughter flowed out like a bird's song, surrounding them, and seeing them, once more, thick as thieves, Katherine stalked over, her face colder than a man dead ten days.

"Your nightly escapades, your vexing all of 'n us, your ribald appearance, and being tardy. . . _tardy_ to Mass, why Lafayette Henri Begnoir, you are black sheep shameful." Her hot breath puffed in his face, and she released a gloating grin. "You should know, I am writin' Father of this, all of this, tonight, and I suspect he will feel it is high time for us to return home."

"Katharine..." Lafayette paused, realizing how hard her name felt in his mouth, and taking a breath, he began again. "Katherine, why do you feel you must speak so to _moi_ , right here in public, where others can harvest gossip?"

Stepping before Lafayette, Joséphine shielded him from their elder sister, and producing a beautiful smile for all to see, she said through it. "How can you not see; Lafe is no longer a child? Yet, you reprimand him. . . and _here?_ To think you scold me. You should look to yourself, _Sœur_ , for if'n, I recall a _proper mademoiselle_ does not scold a _monsieur,_ particularly where others can hear."

Katharine's elegant almond eyes became hard as jagged flint. "Does not matter," she waved a hand toward the chatting groups, "the entire _Carré_ will be rumor mongerin'," she poked a finger toward Lafayette, "about his comportment, and I shall be forced to apologize for weeks on end for him. So, Josie, we shall see if'n Father agrees with your estimation of Lafayette." Raising her chin, Katherine smiled haughtily down on her baby sister, "and if'n he does not, you might wish to consider how you will deem Lafayette's actions when you are back in Missouri, and your _Monsieur_ Burgess is here."

In a tone of absolute awe, Joséphine asked, "why, you are just spiteful!"

"I may be in your estimation," Katharine turned, "but, at least, I ain't shameful."

Watching her drag Michaël around the corner of _Rue de_ St. Anne, Lafayette mumbled, "I do not imagine, I shall ever rise to her expectations of an ideal _Monsieur_."

"Who could?" Joséphine responded.

"Better yet…" Lafayette answered, grinning out of the side of his mouth. "Who would want to?"

"Oh, I have missed you." Joséphine cooed, kissing him on the cheek. "Shall we head home?"

_"S'il vous plaît."_

The front door was barely closed behind them when their Grandmother asked, "How critically are _vous_ injured, _m' fils_?"

"Not too _mal,_ although, I would _très_ much like to lie down." He responded, his eyes scanning the steep, sixteen steps leading to the second landing.

Appearing under his arm, Connor said, "Let me aid ye."

_"Merci,_ " Lafayette grunted, dragging his feet up the steps while leaning hard on Connor.

"Ye be mighty pale, _Deartháir…_ ye be thinking ye torn the stitches?"

" _Oui_."

Katharine cried, " _Qu'elle_ is he speakin' of Lafayette? And who is he?"

Groaning deep in his throat, Lafayette leaned heavily on the second-floor railing to look down on his elder sister. "The only reason I am here is because of Connor. He…" Lafayette smiled at Connor, "did all any _frère_ would do after I was stabbed last Thursday."

Lorraine inhaled so sharp, it sounded like it could be her last breath, and all eyes turned her way. " _Mon belle fils,_ is it _mal_?"

"I would not mind if'n a _docteur_ were fetched."

Catching the door handle, Joséphine called, "I will fetch 'em _._ "

"You cannot," Lorraine yelped, looking at all the faces, which were again turned her way. "It is Sunday; I have given the servants the day off. There is no one to chaperone you, _m' Chérie_."

"I be pleased to chaperone her, Ma'am."

Lorraine's eyes shifted to Connor Shelley, this stranger who had become attached to her grandson, and still, she knew nothing of him.

"I trust him as _famille_ ," Lafayette said, pushing off the railing to stand tall and straight. "Furthermore, I will have 'em treated as such." Nodding to Connor, he took a breath, "I can make it from here, _Frère_."

Trotting down the stairs, Connor offered his arm to Joséphine. "Sounds like we is to be off, Lass…shall we?"

"Wait!" Lorraine laid a hand on Connor's arm, "I would prefer Katherine to go with _vous, Monsieur_ Shelley."

Katharine yelped, " _Moi_?"

Slanting an eye to her eldest grandchild, Lorraine replied, "I deem Josie can make herself useful about here."

Katharine rigidly, but with surprise, replied, "I have lunch and Michaël to see to."

"And I shall see to all that, _m' Chérie,_ go on," Lorraine answered.

Making the last distance to his room, Lafayette thought, ' _merci, Dieu._ Not sure how much longer I could counterfeit being hale and hearty.' Shutting the door, he went to remove his frock, and a rending burn tore along his side. With a snarl, he ripped the dress frock off, flinging it across the room where it hit his desk, sending books and papers flying just as Joséphine entered.

With a bemused chuckle, she ran to him. "Here now, stop that; you will regret it later."

" _Chiant!_ I am damn sick of not being able to do for _mon_ self!" He hollered, and catching himself, lowered his voice, "I do not like havin' to rely on others."

"I know. I know," she purred. "You always were a horrible convalescent, worse than Taddy when it comes down to it." She peeked up into his eyes, "let me help you."

With a sigh, he allowed her to ease him from his black vest, revealing his shirt stained crimson. She gasped, "Oh, my, Lafe!" while tugging the shirttails from his waistline, she shifted her grip to pull the ruined shirt over his head.

" _Non,"_ he took hold of her hands, shaking his head. " _Grand-mère_ would not see it as proper. I will keep it on 'til the _Docteur_ arrives."

"Social graces be damned." She jerked free with a snort, "You are _m' frère;_ I have seen you shirtless, plenty of times; I want to know how bad off you are." Pointing to the bed, she sternly snarled, "Sit the hell down."

Tired to the bone, he obeyed, and she delicately pulled the shirt over his head. "Ah, hell."

He peeked at her from the corner of his eye, " _qu'elle_?"

"You have torn your stitches." Inhaling, she swallowed the weakness she felt rising in her. "and your back is striped with black bruises. You are just a dreadful mess."

He nodded.

Leaning in, near the area she had first discovered blood, she said, "Now, what is going on up here?" Parting his hair, she felt him flinch and moved more cautiously, "Oh…oh, _Grand_ _Frère_."

"Tell _moi_."

"Your scalp is lacerated." She peeked around at his face. "It is pretty ghastly."

A shiver tingled down his spine.

Unable to do anything with the head wound, Joséphine folded the shirt, applying pressure to the blood, welling up and trickling toward his pant line from the scraggy, purplish gash in his side. When she did, he made a sound like a tea kettle. It was a sound she knew him capable of achieving by sucking hard at his front teeth, "Mams were here, she would tell you to knock that off, 'cause you sound like river trash."

"Mmm-hmm."

"At least, tell me the other gent does look worse."

"Connor believes he killed 'em."

She softly answered, "Oh!"

He smiled weakly, "he has done all for me that Gabe or Taddy would."

She nodded with a tremulous smile, and taking his hand, placed it on the folded shirt. "Keep pressure on this while I get your boots off."

" _Merci beaucoup,_ " he answered, pain shining bright in his eyes. "Jo?"

Her eyes turned up to him.

" _S'il vous plaît,_ do not tell the others how. . . well, how it all is."

Firmly she answered, "never."

Closing his eyes, he laid back on the bed, and when Joséphine climbed up next to him, he said, "Careful, _une_ wrong slip, and you will do _moi_ in."

“ _Ta gueule_! That is not funny.”

"It is a lil' funny."

"It is not. Do you want a pillow?"

He wrinkled his nose, and she instead used the pillow to snuggle in close to him. "You do look atrocious."

" _Merci,_ Jo."

"Still, I am sure in a few weeks; the _filles_ will be moonin' over you as usual."

He opened an eye to peek at her, "Shh, I am tryin' to sleep."

She giggled but stopped talking, wishing earnestly, the doctor would arrive.


	56. Chapter FIFTY-THREE

Chapter Fifty-Three

Sienna, Harrisonville, Cass County, Missouri

17th of April 1860

Dearest Katharine,

I have mulled long on what you wrote of city living corrupting Lafe and how you feel he is becoming a disgrace to his very name. I pray this is not true; however, no matter what happens, you must understand it is not safe for him here. I fear if he were in Cass, it would only be a matter of time before word reached us that he was murdered. Please, my dear, have patience with him; he is young. I, too, shall write him of his behavior and how he should be conducting his self.

I do want you to know with each passing day; I find myself missing y'all more. I would adore having y'all return here when you leave Orleans to avoid the summer illness that plagues the town. Yet, my sweet girl, the situation is still not correct for y'all to come home.

I understand your feeling Sienna would bring you needed serenity. Yet, Katherine, it is far from peaceful here; daily arguments erupt between Tad and members of our household. It is because he has been forbidden to enlist, and still, he will not let the notion go. You would find him a thoughtless sinner, for, in his frustration, he rails on, swearing a terrible blue streak. There are days; I am surprised his ears have not come off altogether, as often as Simone gives them stout twists.

Simone asked I convey her love and that her arms ache to hug each of her babies. I rightly know she misses y'all, as she mopes around here like a Shakespearean heroine. Recently, I thought to cheer her by saying, 'you still have Gabe, Tad, and Eudora.' Unfortunately, it earned me an earful, part of it being. . . 'them _garçons_ is too preoccupied with furrowing their private paths to Hell; Gabe enjoyin' too much hard liquor, and Taddy too much hard language.' Her simple depiction of them embarrasses me, for as their Father, I ought to put a halt to their waywardness. Except Katharine, they have ceased turning their backs to me; they will sit and talk without any expression that it pains them to do so. The selfish truth is I do not wish to burn the bridge we are building by chastising them.

Now, Dora, she is doing splendidly. She goes cheerfully about her chores; every day seems a blessing to her. She and Gabe continue to tease Tad, which at times has her giggling until she hiccups. I have never known her to be so mischievous, but her entertainment brings much-needed sunshine to this home. She has also become quite proficient in leading the nightly prayers. Somehow, her readings of the psalms have brought me back to the Lord, and listening to her often leaves me wishing we, too, had the means to attend Mass.

Thinking now of the Good Book, I implore you to turn the other cheek. I am sure Lafe's ambition is not to vex you. Additionally, his not partaking in Eucharist was but a lapse; let time prove this. I do wonder if your weary ire comes from consistently apologizing for him. If so, I say you should pull in the reins on those blathering elitists. An apology only makes what he does also seem wrong to the family. Confront them, stand up for him, and put a halt to this gossiping about your brother. Remind them it is the Lord's place to watch over him and carries little Christian charity in speaking so of him. I have faith you can put this talk down if you put yourself to it.

My hand seems to have taken on a life of its own this evening, scribbling and scribbling, clearly illustrating how much I miss our long chats. However, my pet, regardless of my desire to have you here, I still say the time is not right. I feel so strongly on this matter that if there were a way, I would convey more of your siblings to you, beginning with Thaddeus Robert. As I write his name, I shake my head and think, be pleased; you only have Lafayette Henri. And, my girl, I ask for you to not retouch on the topic of returning as your pleas wring at my heart.

My Loving Regards, Father

Sienna, Harrisonville, Cass County, Missouri

17th of April 1860

Lafe,

Your elder sister sends detailed chronicles of your endeavors, and not surprisingly, she has done an excellent task of dramatizing them. You seem to have her at wit's end. Although I admit I enjoy reading of your roguery, I also implore you to conceal more of your doings, thus aggravating her far less. That is as much reprimand as I shall write. Yet, allow Katharine to believe I have written harshly. My sweet girl has no understanding of men and our ways. Which is as it should be, so please, improve at keeping more from her.

I must say, I am thrilled, even though it is a thorn in Katharine's side; I know this by her statement of you and Josie' creating chaos of this humble home'. She also included examples of y' alls shenanigans, and they made me smile. For each one, clearly illustrated that you and Josie are once again pals. It bothered me a good deal that you two had broken apart as you younger children were always so close. Thank you for making amends with your sister. Also, I highly approve of Jonathon, whom you and Josie write regularly; I would say he appears the competent, stable, caring sort I want for my daughter. I do wish I could meet him. However, times being as they are, I do not foresee this happening in the near future.

Let me give you news from Missouri. This winter and onto spring, we have received little rain. According to the papers, the Nebraska-Kansas Territory has gotten even less. Their deepest wells are dry, crops withering where they are planted, even roaming herds have followed the rain to greener lands. I know as a Christian, I should pity them, yet they have made it hard to do so. As the Kansans have chosen to use our border counties as their personal source of supplies, so instead, I feel great pity for those homesteads being looted and burned. Correspondingly, I fear if this drought continues, the Kansas raiders will feel a need to push much deeper into our State to satisfy their wants.

Before you left, our Missouri Guard Units were more a gathering point for the local boys, a way to whoop-holler and feel important. This is no longer the case, they fight horrific, bloody battles, and even though they try to protect the Border, I still find myself having mixed feelings about these young men becoming rampant killers.

Our Guard Units report that they fight not only Kansans and Jayhawkers, but I loathe to say, also, Missouri Home Guards. Within our State, our neighbors whose beliefs follow those of the Federals and, sadly, the Jayhawkers has been created under the moniker 'The Missouri Home Guard.' It has reached a point that these blue-uniformed Home Guards seem to loathe and strive to destroy all who are not like them.

There seems to be no peaceful resolution on the horizon. Accordingly, Southern Missourians have become more than grateful for their Guard units, as it is the only protection, even justice that they have since the Jayhawkers and Home Guard freely lie to the Federal Troops who back them. Unfortunately, these men and boys who have safeguarded their neighbors have been labeled treasonous. Last winter, I often found myself thinking about young men who were forced by warrants of treason to lair up in the woods, to avoid those hunting them because they defended their homes and those of their neighbors from theft and destruction. Cass is not so far from the Border and these harsh realities; it makes me worry that your brothers may wind up hiding in the woods unless Washington can be made to see the Civil War erupting here within Missouri.

Locally, our boys are 'The Cass Cavilers.' They have openly declared it their sacred duty to roust out thieves, murderers, and dishonest Federalists from our County. They are eulogized as heroes, much like knights of old and Lafe; I cannot explain in mere syntax how inordinately Tad desires to be a Caviler. I thank the Lord, Gabe, and I are in complete agreeance here that Tad is too young. Gabe has loudly and firmly refused Tad's enlistment in any of the Cass regiments, including the one he leads himself.

On the political front, Mr. Claiborne Jackson has been doing the rounds to promote himself for Governor. He is a Southerner to the core, at the same time; he firmly believes a State cannot and should not exist outside the Union. He strives to remind us we are all citizens under one flag, the same flag our forefathers gave their very lives to create. I was in Harrisonville the other day and stopped at a group gathered about a tall stump, and there was Jackson sermonizing. He equated the States to children within a family, saying children have squabbles, not always do they agree, yet they are still a family. As such, they continue to respect and love one another despite their differences. Hence, in the end, their disputes are settled peacefully. I found myself readily agreeing with him, and I have decided I shall vote for him.

The purple of evening is approaching, and I must help in caring for the stock, for with Gabe absent this past week, I know my appearance would be appreciated. Although I wish to inform you before I close this letter, we have trained a large number of the herd. Honestly, I should say Tad has done so. His natural ability with horses simply amazes me. Yet, now, I must determine how to best deliver these trained animals to buyers willing to reimburse their value. I am sure you are thinking, what is new as this is a yearly occurrence. Lafe, this year is different, for I am nearly determined to sell more than we keep. I know how shocking this sounds, yet, I believe the horses set Sienna apart as a ripe location for raiders to strip bare. That to keep the animals, which we are so proud of, could bring about the death of Sienna and all here. I am still figuring what to do. I will keep you informed, as I am confident I will have need of you down South.

There is one last bit I wish to impart. . .. I have tried to impress on you how wretchedly people are turning on one another here. Politics have honestly torn friend from friend, even families apart. Yet, the Eriksen's, despite never being slave owners, remain true neighbors, nay friends. Countless times, I have come across Jackson helping Tad, as there are days when the chores here are endless. Also, despite any grumblings, you may hear from me, I want you to know I have learned to see Thaddeus in a new light. He is utterly devoted to Sienna. Although he may curse loud enough for all to hear, he still bends his back to accept the yoke of this place. He is changed. The boy is turning the corner to becoming a man, a man that will surprise you and all others. I am sure of it.

Know I love you and that your letters bring me great joy. Please, write again soon.

Your, Father, Antonio T. Crowe


	57. Chapter FIFTY-FOUR

Chapter Fifty-Four

**Monday 23 rd April 1860**

Coming through the front door, Lafayette caught up his nephew in an embrace. “I surmise you have grown taller since last I measured you. Keep this up, and you are goin’ to be a giant.”

“I hope so. I want to be as tall as _vous_.”

A twinkle lit Lafayette’s eyes. “Are you sayin’? I am a giant?”

The boy grinned, his round cheeks creasing his eyes.

With a roar, Lafayette flipped him over to dangle upside down, and laughter poured from Michaël. Smiling just as large as the boy, Lafayette dropped Michaël until his fingertips brushed the runner rug, and more laughter filled the house.

“ _S’il vous plait,_ put him down.”

Righting Michaël, Lafayette set him on his hip, turning with a flat expression to his elder sister.

Focusing on her son, Katharine’s tone became sharp and accusing, “Are _vous_ not supposed to be upstairs doin’ your handwriting exercises?”

Meekly, Michaël, replied, “ _Oui, Mère._ ”

“Then, you are a terrible _garçon_ to be down here!”

Sniffing hard, the boy ducked his face into his Uncle’s shoulder, and Lafayette scowled.

Ignoring both of them, Katharine demanded, “Put him down this second!”

“You oughta try loosenin’ up a bit; it _jamais_ hurts a child to laugh.”

Her cheek twitched, and when she spoke, she drew each word out with cold preciseness, “Lafayette Henri Begnoir, when I consider how _vous_ comports thy self, I would say it gives _vous très_ little to say where _m’ fils_ is concerned. Put him down!”

Lafayette’s pulse quickened, and kneeling, he spun, wrapping about his nephew as smoothly as sliding into a coat. “Mikey _Garçon,_ Connor is expectin’ _moi_. Run-on out, and let ‘em know I will be along after I speak with your _Mère?_ ”

Michaël leaned sideways to check his Mother’s expression, and Lafayette moved with him, blocking his view. Still, the boy’s lower lip trembled, “ _Mère_ says, I am to go upstairs.”

Rolling out his full, wide dimpled smile, Lafayette cooed, “It will be all right. You…” He tapped Michaël on the nose. “go give Connor _m’_ message and ask ‘em to learn you a new rhyme.”

“Michaël!?”

The boy cringed.

Pulling him close, Lafayette kissed the side of his face and then shoved him toward the garden, “do as I say, go on.”

The small boy took off, and standing, Lafayette blocked the hallway with a look that dared Katharine to do something. Once he heard the back-door slam, he unveiled a stiff smile, “I judge it is past time for us to talk.”

Frown lines deepened in her face, “I see _non_ reason for us to speak?”

Giving her a half bow, Lafayette gestured to the parlor, “it was not a request.”

Marching in, Katharine sat ramrod straight on the settee and walking to the baby grand piano; Lafayette placed his palms on its shiny, ebony surface; tension hanging between them like simmering heat over a fire.

Pulling at the cuff of her dress, Katharine thought, ‘Why can he not behave the way I wish? When I learned Lafayette was the _only frère_ accompanyin’ us, I was pleased. Always he had been reasonable, yielding . . . that is until we came here.’

Turning, he saw her annoyance, and his eyes narrowed, darkening, “This must end.”

Not deigning to look up, she replied, “I have not the slightest idea what _vous_ are speaking of.”

“ _Non_ idea?” Running his tongue across his teeth, he looked to his feet, feeling his demon rattling to be free. “ _Non_ idea, at all!?”

She looked up, pointedly, biting off her words, “ _Vous_ wanted this conversation, not _moi_.”

Slowly, his head raised, and when Katharine saw the hot fury in his face, her eyes widened, her throat going dry. At her startled expression, he leaned on the piano, dropping his face into his hands, feeling his left dimple pulsing in time with his rushing blood.

Staying perfectly still, she warily eyed him.

Having reined his rage back, he looked up, stroking his lower lip with his index finger, “To begin with, each time you speak to _moi,_ it is with pure waspishness.”

“That is not true.”

“Oh, but it is.”

She opened her mouth, and he shook his head.

“You refuse to accompany _moi_ in public.”

Color rose in her face.

“And here…” He waved a hand about him, “you demean and undercut _moi_ at every opportunity.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“At every instance, you can find.”

She pursed her lips, and he smiled back. But, to her, it was more of a controlled snarl, so she looked away.

“Mostly, you refrain from addressin’ _moi_ at all. Yet, when you deign to, it is only by _m’_ full _nom,_ except when you say it..." His dark eyes widened, making him appear even more dangerous, "... it sounds like the lash of a whip."

She sucked in her lips.

“I am _très désolé. Y_ ou are so disturbed by the prospect of havin’ _moi_ as part of your _famille._ On the other hand, I am not in the least _désolé_ for anything which you see as inadequate about _moi._ ”

“Lafayette Henri Beg--”

“I now understand…” He said, speaking over her, “you only submitted to _m’_ leadership on the voyage here, merely ‘cause it was proper etiquette to do so. From the start, you planned to rule over us, to be not only our elder but the _une_ in charge. Well, Katharine, I will not be governed. I am sick unto death of being treated as a blasted child. Look at _moi!_ ” He stood, striding toward her. “I am no longer a _garçon_. I am a man. Everyone sees _moi_ thusly, except you _,_ and I am done with it.” Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths, settling himself, before opening them. “Furthermore, I am weary of walkin’ on tenterhooks, ‘cause I _jamais_ know what will send you into a tantrum. Your coldness, your reprimands, and the way you bray at _moi_. I am done. I will _non_ longer abide you takin’ your anger out on _moi,_ or anyone else, especially Mikey. I _amour_ _m’_ _neveu,_ and I would say he feels the same for _moi_. Yet, you doggedly keep us apart. So, here and now, while I am before you, explain why you feel the need to be so malicious.”

Staring beyond him at the leafy tendrils of the potted fern on the piano, Katharine held her tongue, and the silence stretched out between them, the only movement being that of his left dimple.

At length, he ran a hand back through his long hair. “ _Zut!_ This is your chance," his rising rage erasing softness and manners from his voice, he snarled, "Speak!”

Katharine took a gulping breath. “I hoped you would be the perfect role model for _m_ _’ fils_.” Her eyes switched to him, “and, you…. you are so far from it. You blaspheme, keep poor hours, gamble, drink, just…” she shook her head, “honestly, _m’_ faith in you was an atrocious blunder.”

“Perfect??” He shook his head with a snort. “I ain’t _jamais_ heard of any person being perfect, and yet, you expected _moi_ to comport myself so.”

“Maybe not, perfect, but…” she closed her eyes, tears wetting her cheeks, “Michaël adores you, and I do not want ‘em to reason breakin’ the commandments, that being as _vous_ are, is acceptable.” She opened her eyes, and there was a new strength to be seen there. “And I am ashamed of you. Michaël’s father was an upright church abidin’ man of morals, and you…” She let her words trail off.

With a grunt, Lafayette scrubbed a hand across his face. “I sincerely regret Archie is _non_ longer here for the pair of’n you _._ However, you cannot expect _moi_ to be his moral replacement.”

Shoving her fist against her lips, Katharine clenched her eyes tight.

Squatting, Lafayette took up her free hand, “ _Chérie_?”

Shaking her head vehemently, she pulled her hand from him. “I believed Father trusted _m’_ judgment, and that when I wrote him, he would be overjoyed to have Michaël and I return home. All he did was inform _moi_ to turn the other cheek and. . .” She snorted, or as close as she could come to such an act. “I _non_ longer want to be here, not with--.” She stopped speaking.

“Not with _moi.”_

Her sharp, dark eyes were dramatically pronounced in her reddening face.

“Not with _moi,_ ” Lafayette smiled tightly, “not with _une_ who refuses to follow your demands, and you have deemed as nefarious.”

A timid smile trembled on her face, “I do not see _vous_ as nefarious, only… _mal_. And, Lafayette, _vous do not listen to_ _moi_.” She raised her eyes to him, her cheek twitching, "Why!?"

He grasped her hand again, and this time, she let him hold it. “Cause, like I said, I ain't a child to be bossed, and I ain’t ever goin’ to be a perfect _monsieur_ , neither. I am simply your _frère.”_ He squeezed her hand lightly, “And, I will make mistakes. But I will also attain triumphs, and I will do both on _m’_ own, without bein’ herded by another. You worry ‘bout _qu’elle_ Father thinks . . . well, he has faith in _moi,_ trusts _m’_ decisions. So, why cannot you?”

Chewing at her lower lip, she looked back to the light, glistening off the fern leaves.

Seeing she did not intend to answer, he stood, releasing her hand. “Fine, if’n this is how you wish it between us, I shall stay damn-well clear of you. _Per contra,_ I beseech you to relent in your malice toward Mikey, Jo, and Connor. _Feu de l'enfer_ , being ‘round you is like waitin' for a confounded trap to snap shut on your neck. It is a hard way to live day in, day out, and though I shall, stomach your treatment, as in your eyes I am a failure, the rest of our _famille_ should not be treated the same.”

The silent tears tracing along the outlines of her cheeks hurt him more than she would ever understand, and he fell to pacing. “I recollect when you used to smile; _feu de l'enfer,_ even laugh. I appreciate being a widow; markedly at your age is a terrible way to be. Still, if’n, you could break off searchin' for the worst in people, I suspect you would find a measure of happiness.”

Katharine swallowed hard, the muscles in her neck clenching.

Stopping before her, he looked down, studying her pain. Then with a long exhale, he said, almost too low to be heard, “I do not wish us to be at odds.”

Her face snapped around to him.

Looking away, he ran a hand back through his hair and returned his gaze to her wet eyes, “Do you even want to mend this difficulty ‘tween us?"

She nodded.

" _Vraiment?_ ”

She nodded, stronger.

He breathed deep, the corner of his mouth hitching in a crooked grin. “ _Je t'aime, Chérie,_ you are _m’ Gran_ _Sœur,_ _s’il vous plaît,_ let us be as we were before we came here.”

She nodded more, passing him a quivering smile.

“Would you like to be left alone?”

This time she shook her head.

Taking a seat, he offered his arms.

With a timid smile, she accepted his peace offering, hugging him tightly. “I do _amour vous,_ Lafe, and I will endeavor to treat _vous_ better.” She swiped tears from her face, “and… I suppose I did not see what sort of tyrant I was becomin’; I will strive to be more forgivin’.”

He nodded, “and I will strive not to aggravate you so.”

She released a quavering laugh, “ _vous_ are perfectly awful at that.”

His low baritone laugh rumbled forth, and he hugged her closer, when from the room above came a bellowed shout, “Lafe!?”

They both looked to the ceiling, tracking Joséphine’s movements on the second floor.

Slanting his eyes to Katharine, he smiled softly, “Then we are _bonne_?”

She nodded as another shout of “Lafe!” reverberated down the stairs.

His boyish smile erupted, “she will be on this floor in a moment.”

“Is this what goes on ‘round here when _Grand_ - _mère_ and I are away?”

The smile vanished.

“I am not being critical, simply inquirin’.”

“Well, when y'all are out, this place does sound a lot more like Sienna.”

A mumbled oath floated down the stairs, and he grinned. “Jo and I miss Sienna’s chaos and given half a chance; I am ‘fraid to say, we revert rather easily to it.”

Katharine half-laughed, “honestly, there are times I, too, miss the noise.”

Trotting down the stairs, Joséphine grumbled, “ _Zut!_ Where in blazes, are you, Lafe?”

His dimples grooving each side of his face, Lafayette motioned Katharine to remain quiet, and standing, he moved to the center of the room.

Racing by, Joséphine threw the parlor a cursory glance, and catching sight of him, she slid to a halt, “There you are! Why in Hades did you not answer? I know you heard me. Do you have any notion how difficult it is searchin’ all over for you, in this cussed contraption, Katharine insists I wear?” With a loud snort, Joséphine slapped at the metal bone stays of her corset, and at about the same time, noticed her sister.

“ _Mon Chérie,_ I find it more entertainin’ not to answer. However, since you have found _moi_ , I suppose I should ask, what may I do for you?”

Seeing amusement shining brightly in his face, Joséphine wanted to rise to the bait. Yet, at the moment, all she could think of was Katharine watching her. “Uh. . . uhm. . . this mornin’ you said you would have a surprise for me...” Her eyes swung from Lafayette to Katharine and back, “…uh. . . well, when you returned from the law office, I heard you come in and…” She stuttered to a stop, her eyes again going to her sister, thinking, ‘why is she not chidin’ me? Has she been weepin’?’ Joséphine’s mouth and eyes opened wider, and she looked back to her brother, ‘Did Lafe make ‘the porcelain empress' cry?’

“Jo…?,” he prompted.

“You know, waitin’ kills me.”

“I know.” The corners of his mouth turned up, and he passed her a wink. “You shall have to have patience, as I do have a _merveilleux_ surprise for you _._ ” Smiling broader at Joséphine’s evident confusion, he turned to Katharine, “if’n you would excuse us.”

Not trusting herself to keep from reprimanding Joséphine’s language and behavior, Katharine settled for nodding her acquiesces.

Bowing slightly, Lafayette took her hand, kissing the back of it. “ _Merci beaucoup_ for speakin’ with _moi_ ,” then taking Joséphine’s hand, he led her to the garden.

Outside, Joséphine stared openly at the house and then swirled the pair of them in a circle. “I cannot believe I escaped her condemnations.”

“Count your blessings.”

“I am! I am!”

He laughed, pulling free, “Come on, _Chérie,_ Connor is waitin’ on us.”


	58. Chapter FIFTY-FIVE

Chapter Fifty-Five

_"Bells of St. Clement's. You owe me five farthings, Say the Bells of St. Martin's. When will you pay me, say the Bells of Old Bailey?”_

“You hear that? Mikey is singin’ ' _Oranges and Lemons_.'”

“I never cared for that rhyme.”

“Well, I did,” Lafayette replied, holding back the philodendron's large, heart-shaped leaves.

“I know,” Joséphine answered, rolling her eyes and stepping by him into the smaller courtyard, where the _garçonnière_ curved about the property's rear wall. Before one of its doors sat Connor with wood slivers filtering to the ground as he carved while singing along with Michaël, who was working his way through a hopscotch pattern. “ _When I grow rich, say the Bells of Shoreditch. When will that be, say the Bells of Stepney?”_

Seeing the siblings, Connor broke off singing to set his chair's front feet on the ground. At the same time, Lafayette laid a finger to his lips, nodding at his nephew, who was bending to retrieve his puck stone. _“I do not know, say the Great Bells of Bow.”_

Rushing forward and picking up the song, Lafayette swept his nephew off the ground. _“Here comes a candle to light you to Bed. Here comes a Chopper to chop off your head. Chip-chop. Chip-chop... the Last Man is dead.”_ At the song's end, he spun Michaël, hanging him upside down. “Chip-chop. Chip-chop. Should I drop you on your head?” he asked, letting the boy slip a little.

A shriek of laughter pealed from Michaël, “ _Non_ , _Oncle_. _Non_!”

Spinning him over, Lafayette hugged the boy, and squatting; he set Michaël on his raised bent knee. “That is a tough pattern.”

Michaël nodded. “I ain't made it through once.”

"You will." Lafayette grinned, “ _Lemons and Oranges,_ great rhyme, I used to sing it back when I played this.”

“You did?”

“He did,” Joséphine responded, placing her hands on her hips. “Still, cannot fathom why you and Taddy adored it so much. It is just a horrid song, all that _the last man is dead_ and all.”

Lafayette looked up innocently. “Now, who is condemning who?”

“I am,” she nodded with a toothy smile. “I am condemning you." Spinning toward Connor, she called, "And you too . . . now that you taught it to 'em, I will be forced to hear it, all the time, all over again.”

“It be a fine gaming rhyme,” Connor answered, winking playfully to Joséphine. “I cannot be believing, ye, me wild lassie, do not be for enjoying it.”

With a smirk, Joséphine stuck her tongue out, and he burst into a full belly laugh.

Tugging at his Uncle’s frock coat, Michaël asked, “Did _vous vraiment_ play hopscotch?”

“ _Oui_ , probably still can,” Lafayette replied. “Peter taught all of’n us, said it would make us quick on our feet. Taddy and I would play 'til our legs ached.”

“Will _vous_ play with _moi_?”

“Another time, _Garçon_ , you have studies that I have encouraged you to disregard.”

Michaël’s mouth dragged down.

“I have spoken with your _mère_ ; all will be fine.” Placing Michaël on his feet, Lafayette stood. “You have had a grand respite; it is time for you to head back up.”

Michaël drug one small foot along a chalk line and then peered up with big brown eyes.

“ _Non,_ that will not work on _moi._ Inside with you. Chip-chop, chip-chop.” Lafayette said, lightly popping Michaël’s backside, and the boy took off like a horse from a starting gate with a ribbon of laughter trailing after him.

“You are good with 'em.”

“You sound surprised?”

Joséphine shrugged and then punched his arm, “Could be 'cause you were always so tough on Taddy and me.”

“I would say your memories are tainted. I was the _une_ who invariably had to pull you off Taddy. _Par Dieu,_ I would say, part of the reason he is such a _bonne_ fighter is from learnin' to dodge your blows.” Sidestepping another punch, Lafayette yelped, “See! Just like that.”

Unable to hold onto her sham of anger, a laugh burst from Joséphine, “Maybe, you are right.”

Raising his chin, a notch, Lafayette quirked an eyebrow, “I know, I am.”

“Hmm, what is it Taddy says, “Oh, yes." She rolled her eyes dramatically, _"Ain’t non use arguin’ with Lafe. He is toujours right. You will just wind up frustrated and still wrong.”_

“At least he understands the truth,” Lafayette said, dodging another punch.

“Sure, look it. I be hating to be breaking this up.” Connor nodded to Joséphine, “I deem she could take ye, Lafe. Still, it be time for we to go.”

“ _Oui,_ it is past,” Lafayette replied.

“Meet you at Jackson Square?”

“Just as discussed.”

With a nod and a chirk, Connor headed for the garden gate.

“What fool’s errand have you set poor Connor on?”

“Does not concern you.”

“Humph!” She grunted, taking a few tentative jumps on the hopscotch pattern. “I miss being able to play,” she said, lifting the yards of fabric that made her dress hem with a snort. “Hell, I miss seein' my feet.”

Wrapping an arm about her, Lafayette released a joyful laugh, “Someone once told _moi_ , it is pretty terrible havin’ to be respectable.”

“You were listenin’ to me; all that time, you would not talk to me.”

He grinned with a shrug.

She shook her head, “you are the one who is terrible.”

“And yet, you _amour moi_ anyway.”

“Yes, I do, but Devil only knows why.”

“Cause I am your best _ami_ in the world.”

Grabbing him in a hug, she whispered, “Yes, you are. ‘Cept, when you are tauntin’ me with a surprise like you, have been all day long.”

“Well, come along, then _m’ Cherie_ , I will escort you to your surprise?”

An hour later, walking along the cobblestones, Joséphine asked, “If’n takin’ me for ice cream was not my surprise, then what is?”

 _“Jésus, a pleuré,_ but you are persistent.”

Admiring the tall brick buildings along _Rue de_ Chartres, she bumped against Lafayette, “it truly is lovely here.”

“I like it.”

Spinning to walk backward in front of him, she pleaded, “Come on, Lafe, cease being a botherment, and tell me what you are up to.”

“Turn around, _s’il vous plaît,_ afore you trip _._ ”

She did, but not before wrinkling her nose at him, “you are indubitably…” She paused, “is that Jonathon with Connor over by Jackson Square?”

“Appears to be.”

Tossing her brother a love-filled grin, she hustled off as fast as permissible. Before she made it to the park, Conner passed her, and tipping his hat, called, “Hello again, Lass.”

“Hello,” she answered, feeling puzzled, but kept on for where Jonathon, now stood, just inside the park, speedily, turning his hat in hand.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” his blue eyes darted to Lafayette and Connor, who had reclined themselves against the wall surrounding the Square. Putting his hat on, he smiled at her, “Want to walk in the garden?”

“Of course,” she replied, taking his arm. “Have you been well?”

“Yes.”

Her brows furrowed, “I have not seen you all week.”

“I have been rather busy.”

“I suppose your Father has had you workin’.”

“Not too much,” Jonathon answered, pulling her to a halt behind the statue of Colonel Jackson.

“Are you sure you are well?” She cupped his face. “You look peevish.”

At her touch, his chest tightened, his breathing becoming stilted. “I am fine.”

She arched her brows at him.

“Well, I am not altogether fine.” He licked his lips, “Father, intends for me to travel to Europe to broker trade deals.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh…”

“I hope that means you will miss me.”

“I suppose I might miss you,” Joséphine replied, hot tears burning her eyes, and she thought. ‘Do not cry like some ninny.’ However, it did not matter, for the tears were already wetting her face.

Jonathon gulped, “Joséphine.” Looking left and right, and seeing they were alone, he wrapped her up in his arms.

Inhaling his scent, she asked, “How long will you be gone?”

“Most of a year, perhaps more.”

“No,” she wailed, crumpling into his chest and falling to sobbing in earnest.

“Hush, hush, dear,” Jonathon soothed, rocking her gently. “I want very much to take you with me.”

Pulling back, her eyes roved over his face. “what a wonderful dream you weave...”

He shook his head, dropping to one knee, “you are correct; it is a wonderful dream.” Taking her hand, he said, “Ms. Joséphine Michelle Antoinette, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife and thus accompanying me wherever I may go?”

All fell quiet, and Joséphine thought, ‘why is it, suddenly, so hard to breathe? Oh, it is this damn corset. I fear I might swoon.’

He gripped tighter of her hand, “Joséphine?”

When he spoke, all sound and color came rushing back. She began breathing rapidly, and with a smile that rounded her cheeks and wrinkled her nose, she cried, "Yes. Jonathon, yes."

He removed her lace glove with shaking hands, sliding a golden band weighted with a light blue sapphire on her finger. Standing, he tipped her face up from looking at the ring, “a constant reminder of my love.”

“It is the color of your eyes.”

“That it is,” he answered, pressing his lips to hers; she clung to him, their kiss deepening until she wanted nothing in the world so much as him.

When they came apart, she smoothed her lips together, enjoying the lingering feeling of his kiss until a terrible thought came to her. "What about Lafe? And my Father?”

Jonathon laughed, “I kiss you like that, and you think of them?”

She blushed, whispering, “Only ‘cause I want you to kiss me like that thousands of times more, and _they_ could make it difficult.”

“Then, my dear, you will be pleased. For I have already gotten their blessings,” Jonathon replied, drawing her in, kissing her with slow, thoughtfulness.

Leaning into him, she sighed, “This feels so right, and now you rogue; I can finally tell you…” she smiled up at him. “…you stole my heart the first time I saw you.”

“If it were not so cliché, I would say the same.”

She grinned mischievously, “Oh, go ahead and be cliché.”

Kissing her left cheek, he said, “Josie,” he then kissed her forehead, “I have loved you.” He kissed her right cheek, “since the moment I saw you.” He kissed the tip of her nose, “asleep in the garden, and I will love you, forevermore.” Leaning in, he crushed her to him, his lips hungrily searching hers.

Snuggling into his arms, she whispered, “I cannot wait to be your wife.” Closing her eyes, she listened to his heart, knowing they should break apart before someone came across them. Then it came to her, and she pulled back with a snort. “Lafe knew you were going to ask today, did he not?”

“Why, of course.”

“He is such a _diable…._ ” She shook her head, “he used your plans to pester me.”

“Sounds about like him,” Jonathon replied, feeling as if he could never stop smiling.

“How long before we leave for Europe?”

“A month.”

A frown played on her lips, then she shrugged, “We shall have a small wedding.” She bit her lower lip, “But, Jonathon, when we return, can we travel to Sienna for a visit?”

“As you wish, _mon Chérie_.”

She snickered.

“What?”

“ _François_ does not suit you.”

“I will remind you," he raised both his brows at her, "I was born here in New Orleans.”

“But, not in a Creole home, and well, my love, it does not suit you.” She kissed his cheek. “Course, it never suited me either, so we are well-matched.”


	59. Chapter FIFTY-SIX

Chapter Fifty-Six

Sienna, Harrisonville, Cass County, Missouri 12th of May 1860

Lafe & Josie,

I apologize for not writing to each of you separately. Yet, I am in haste as Tad is traversing to town, and I wish to send this along.

Josie, it feels odd knowing you are to be married, and I have not formally met your young man. However, his communications requesting my consent, despite already having your elder brothers, confirms my belief that he is of good character and will make a fine husband. My sweet girl, I wish I could be there to give you away, and yet, you will be married and, on a ship, before I could even prepare Sienna for our departure. Therefore, I send every blessing of happiness to you both, and may your lives be filled with naught but joyful, content days.

Lafe, I have concluded rather than selling such a large amount of our Stable lines, the best course would be to move them South, where they shall be beyond the reach of thieving Jayhawkers. As I figured, I now need your assistance. Your task is to prepare your family’s summer plantation for the stock’s arrival. In doing this, I would recommend hiring several men with their express purpose being the care of our stable. I have hopes that you will enjoy this task, as when it is completed, you will once more have horses to train. I do find myself wondering, for not once, have you written of missing the stables. Still, being from Sienna, I cannot imagine you do not.

As I write, Tad is pacing my study like a yearling freshly penned, and with little effort, I am certain each of you can picture the taciturn looks he has been casting my way. Yet, what you cannot see is how his very posture indicates how much waiting aggrieves his sense of standards. Can you imagine, Tad, with a sense of standards?

Yet the truth is…. he has, most certainly, he has. Your younger brother has changed. I know I have written of this before, but it is hard to understand who he is becoming unless you are with him. I am proud of Tad, just as I am all of you, and one day, the Lord willing, I will have my family together again. Now, give my love to Lorraine and Katharine. Also, please pass on a hug to Mikey. May your days be comfortable and filled with pleasant memories.

Love, Father

Thaddeus ceased pacing before a detailed painting of a grass track horse race in progress, leaning close, his eyes roved across it, thinking, 'Painter did a damn _bonne_ job on the sky and gazebos, but his _chevals_ look like fuckin’ misshapen dogs. Why in the Hell did Father purchase this?'

The bitter scent of sealing wax filled the study, and the corner of Thaddeus’ mouth tugged into his crooked grin. He turned to the desk, knowing his wait was over, as the smell was his father pressing his signet ring into a thick globule of black wax, leaving behind the Crowe brand of a little a nestled in a capital c . It was Sienna’s brand, and Antonio’s emblem could be found from the front wrought iron gates to the fireplace mantles to every head of livestock on the place.

Smiling broadly at his youngest son, walking toward him, Antonio asked, “Have I said how damn proud I am for the way you have taken charge of Sienna?”

“ _Oui_ ," Thaddeus replied, blowing his bangs from his eyes. “ _De Rien,_ but it is _m’_ _devoir,_ is it not?”

“Your _devoir_?" Antonio nodded, "You sound very much like Lafe.”

Thaddeus’ smile appeared, except there was no humor or warmth within it. “We _duex_ are not alike,” he stated, his tone hiding a snarl.

Leaning against the edge of his desk, Antonio’s gaze shifted from his son, “that so.”

"It is,” Thaddeus answered, making the letter disappear and hitching his thumbs in his holster belt. “I damn-well respect _m' gran frère_. Hell’s gates, I would not mind being a bit more like 'em. But that is as far as it fuckin’ goes. Otherwise, we _duex_ are nothin’ alike."

Antonio’s gaze shifted back, and he studied the glinting anger shining in his son’s bright green eyes.

"I will never fuckin' come near being Lafe, so you might ’en as well cease huntin' for 'em in _moi_.”

Beneath his long drooping mustache, Antonio frowned, recalling Simone’s words about Thaddeus’ vulgar language and lack of manners, and he considered reprimanding him. But, with a shake of his head, he decided, just as quickly, against it, saying. “Thaddeus Robert, I do see you as your own person, despite what I might say.” Stepping up to his son, he said more firmly. “I am also damn grateful you adore Sienna; I see it in all you do, and it is appreciated.”

A glowing warmth colored Thaddeus’ face.

“Now, I am certain, Web is awaitin’ you,” Antonio said, motioning toward the door. “And, Tad, while you are in Harrisonville, makes sure you visit Willer's Emporium for a new wardrobe, charge it all to the account. For land sakes, you look more like a tramp than a member of Sienna.”

A snorting snicker broke from Thaddeus, and he nodded, “I will.”

“Before you go . . . are you familiar with how many horses are currently on the property?”

Looking up and to the left, Thaddeus said, “One-hundred and twenty-eight… One-thirty-nine if’n you add in the work _chevals_ and mules.”

"You are certain?"

Thaddeus’ chin jutted, his lips pressing together.

"I am not doubtin’ you.” Antonio clamped his hand about his son’s shoulders. “I am in awe, for whatever I inquire of the stock, you, always, have the answer stored away. Makes me, damn pleased, for one day, you will manage this place, and I am coming to see, it will be as easy for you as drawing that revolver."

Thaddeus ducked his head, stifling a grin, muttering, " _Merci beaucoup,_ never thought you gave much of a damn notice."

“I notice more than you deem," Antonio replied, walking them toward the study door. "Tell me this, if’n we were to hard cut, for selling, how many would you pull?"

"Fifty-five. That would leave our best breeders and personal favorites. If’n you throw in the un-trained yearlings, we could bring the count up to seventy-four."

“Fine. Then start cullin’ the herd… as you see fit.”

Thaddeus inhaled sharp, looking over at his father, and Antonio nodded, “As you see fit.” He broke into a smile, “although, you might wanna let Peter put in some say so.”

“I will. _Feu de l'enfer_ , I will.”

“Out of‘n, our young stallions, does any require gelding?”

“I would say Marquis Sapphire and Louie's Gamble.”

“Then, see to that, too.” Antonio raised an eyebrow. “What of Appalachian Blue?”

"Cain?" Thaddeus asked, his eyes telling Antonio exactly how his son felt about that particular horse. "He is the fastest damn stud I have seen since Boreas. I want to take some more damn time before decidin’.”

“Very well, I bow to your insight,” Antonio answered, patting his son on the back as he walked out into the hallway. “After dinner, we will discuss this further over drinks.”

Looking back, Thaddeus replied, “I would be pleased to, Sir.” Walking on down the hall to the front door, he raked his teeth over his lower lip, releasing a proud grin, thinking, ‘Hot damn, I must be finally doin’ something right.’

Standing before the broad red front door, Eudora called, “Hey, Taddy, I want to go."

“Nope.”

Her face buckled down with stubbornness, her grip tightening on the hat, duster, and calfskin gloves she had gathered up for him.

Shaking his head, he reached for his hat, and she stepped back.

“I want to go.”

“I am sure you do, Sis.” He held his hand out palm up, “give _moi m’_ belongings.”

Her mouth pulled into a pucker, but she handed him his low crown, broad-brimmed brown hat.

Dropping it in place, he smiled at her, “We are only pickin’ up supplies.”

She handed his gloves, “I could still go.”

Pulling them on, he rolled the tops down, tightening them to his hands.

“If’n _you_ go without _moi_ ,” She whined, her frown becoming a pout. “You will get in trouble.”

Wrapping her up in his arms, he held her tight. “You worry too much.”

“You… not enough.”

Inhaling of her lime verbena perfume, he answered, “I will not get in any damn trouble. ‘Sides, you have been a dozen times these past months…” taking his duster from her, he squirmed free with a devilish grin. “…and _moi_ none.”

Shaking her head, she aligned the curled-up brim of the left side of his hat to where she liked it on him, "That is your own fault, Taddy; you work too much."

“Someone has to,” he responded, kissing her cheek and trotting off down the front steps.

Racing out onto the wide front porch, she called, “Well, at least, bring _moi_ something back.”

He laughingly called back, “Do I not always?”


	60. Chapter FIFTY-SEVEN

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Thaddeus scrunched his face at the slow-moving wagon for the tenth time in as much as fifteen minutes.

“You got somethin’ you are wantin’ to say?”

“Yeah, this dead pace is sendin’ _moi_ and Cain ‘round the damned bend.”

Webster shifted, on the springboard seat, eyeing Thaddeus with a long, steady look, and Thaddeus’ chipped tooth grin appeared. “Is you itchin’ to hit town that _mal_?”

“Hell, yes.”

Webster shook his head, “Dora’s most likely right. You will get yourself into some difficulty if’n you ride in alone.”

“ _Pour l'amour de Dieu,_ I am seventeen years old, I can fuckin’ see to _mon_ self.”

“You only _just_ seventeen, and ain’t none of’n us so sure you _can_ see to yourself. I needs to be remindin’ you of the McIntosh's Riverboat and what you carried home.”

“Aw, that was damn _mal_ luck was all that was.”

Webster canted an eye.

“Come on, Web, give _moi_ a chance.”

Webster’s foot rocked back and forth as the freight team plodded along until, at length, he released a hard sigh. “Do not be makin’ _moi_ regret this.”

_“Vraiment?”_

“I will meet you at Kent’s Mercantile.”

“You sure?”

“ _Non,_ I ain’t sure.” Webster scoffed. “But you are correct. We gotta give you a chance, sometime.”

Ripping off his hat, Thaddeus flogged it across Cain’s haunches, and with a snort, the stallion took off, his speed increasing with each bound. Before he thought it possible, Harrisonville was looming before them, and shifting his weight, Thaddeus reined the stallion in. Except, Cain flung his head up, swerving and kicking out his rear feet. “ _Garçon_ ain’t _non_ fuckin’ need for that!”

The big gray snorted again, settling into a diagonal trot, followed by a slower trot, and with a shake of his head, he fell into a smooth walk.

Circling Harrisonville’s Town Square, Thaddeus reset his hat. Leaning forward, he scratched Cain between his ears and pulled up before Willer's Emporium. Hopping down, he tied Cain to the hitch rail, grumbling, “ _Zut!_ Ain't anyone worth a jack in sight.”

Cain nudged him.

“Present company aside, _Garçon_ ," Thaddeus said, scratching the gray between his jawbones. “Now, you behave yourself out here.”

As he opened the Emporium’s door, he heard the hitching post creak, and turning, hissed, "I mean it. Behave!”

Cain’s head shot up, his ears pricking Thaddeus’ way.

“You seem to keep forgettin' it is up to _moi_ if’n you remain a stallion... so behave!"

Cain’s head dropped, hanging low like a docile old mule, and with a chuckle, Thaddeus walked on into Willer's Emporium, a jangling bell announcing his arrival.

From within, the softly lit room, a cordial English accent called, “Good day to you, Sir.”

Snorting at the stuffy, stale air trapped in the store, Thaddeus walked across to a long counter, protecting a wall of shelves that were piled high with neat stacks of folded shirts, pants, and other sundries.

A graying, paunchy man met him with an effusive smile. “So, kind of you to stop in, good Sir. What may, my Emporium, do you for this brilliant day?”

“ _Bonjour_ , _Monsieur_ Willer.”

Taking a step back, Willer gaped. Dropping his high-vaulted sales tone, he chuckled, “Why Jerusalem crickets, Taddy Crowe, I did not recognize you, no, not in the least.”

“It is just Tad now.” Thaddeus replied with a wry grin, tossing his hat and gloves on the counter; he ran his hands back through thick, unruly black hair, “It has been a long run of days.”

“It is more than that.” Over the top of his wire-rim glasses, Willer took inventory of Thaddeus. “Humph! It seems mighty strange, since the way I heard it, you had the same ague which buried four of the McIntoshes. Yet, here you stand, big and healthy as an ox.”

A frown twisted Thaddeus’ face.

“Now, now, do not be getting me wrong. I am pleased you won out, as so many fail to do so.” Shaking his head and smacking his hands together, Willer barked, “Tell me what I can do for you?”

“ _Mon_ Father is set on the notion of _moi_ being freshly outfitted.”

“An area I can most assuredly assist," Willer replied, pulling the cloth tape measure he kept draped about his neck, free. "Remove your overcoat,” He muttered, stepping from behind the counter, “Let me get a better idea of your current-size?” He then began circling, measuring, and mumbling until Thaddeus started to feel as if he were a horse fly in need of swatting. When with a final mutter, Willer left to retrieve items from his shelves and, laying them out across the highly polished counter, said. 'You will find any of these a better fit.”

Taking a quick look to see the Emporium was empty, Thaddeus slipped out of his vest, dropped his suspenders, and skinned off the worn, thin shirt, replacing it with an acorn-colored plainsman. Rolling his tree trunk shoulders, a roar of laughter broke free. “ _Par Dieu_ , it feels damn fine to be able to all-together move.” After the second roll of his shoulders, he set to transferring his pocket goods into a dark brown pinstriped vest; Willer had placed on the counter. When done, he looked up to find the man clutching tightly to a stack of trousers.

Laughing again, Thaddeus winked at him. “If’n you will release a pair, I _promesse_ not to step out of _m’_ own right here on the spot.”

Willer’s mouth twitched, and he handed over a pair, whose color matched the vest Thaddeus had already selected.

Tucking them under his arm, Thaddeus said, “Wrap up three pairs of long handles, a dozen drawers, same for socks.” Then indicating a couple of various shirts, he went on, “along with vests and pants to match these.”

Willer’s brow furrowed. “Do you not want to choose for yourself?”

“Nope,” Thaddeus flashed his crooked grin, “all looks the same to _moi._ Now, where would you _prefer_ I change into these?”

“Through there,” Willer responded, nodding toward a curtain while retrieving his ledger book.

Passing by a display cabinet of formal suits, Thaddeus paused, wrinkled his nose, and with a shrug, called. “Hey, go on and add a full black suit, a couple of boiled shirts and collars.”

“Shall I choose one similar to Lafayette’s last purchase?”

“ _Non,_ simpler,” Thaddeus answered, from behind the curtain, and when he emerged, he tossed his old clothes in a waste box. “ _M._ Willer. I had _non_ sort of notion how tight _m’_ old clothes had gotten.”

Willer nodded with a smile, “Well, you appear to have grown several inches, in every direction, since I saw you last.”

“Suppose I have,” Thaddeus responded, strolling about peering into display cabinets.

“What else can I get you?”

“I need a trinket for Dora.”

“It just happens your sweet sister was in here, not too long ago, and I know the exact item which caught her eye.” Mr. Willer answered, striding eagerly to a glass case and withdrawing a silver heart on a flat bar silver chain.

“She ain’t one for jewelry.”

“Ah, but she is becoming a young lady, and she did ask to hold this.”

With a grunt, Thaddeus took the offered chain. It twirled in the light, shimmering like a spider web at dawn. “You sure?”

“Truth is, she was quite taken with it.”

Laying it across his hand, he poked at the silver heart shining brightly against his calloused palm, and it fell apart, revealing itself to be not one heart but a pair interlocked together. Sucking at the inside of his cheek, Thaddeus nodded, “How much for a _petite_ thing like this?”

“It was created by a well-respected jeweler in New York City,” Willer answered, removing his glasses and polishing them. “I was only able to obtain a few of his unique pieces.”

Thaddeus’ eyes slanted to Willer, “So, what is the goin’ rate of New York silver?”

“This particular silver is thirty dollars.”

Thaddeus whistled long and low. “There ain’t hardly two-dollars’ worth of silver in all of it.” He held the chain up, watching the hearts tap together until they settled, again becoming one, and with a sigh, he handed it back. “Go on and charge the clothes to Sienna.”

Mr. Willer's jaunty handlebar mustache drooped as he bent to return the necklace to its position in the display case.

“Hold up. I am buyin’ that.” Thaddeus growled, laying the double-eagle coins he had won in the wager on the glass countertop. “ _Pour l'amour de Dieu,_ cannot believe I am, but I am.”

Willer, eagerly, plucked up the forty dollars, “I will get your change, and your sister will love you for this.”

“She already _amours_ _moi_.”

Having placed the necklace in a blue velvet box, Willer handed it to Thaddeus, “she will _amour_ this treasure, all her days, as it came from you.”

Tucking the box inside his vest, Thaddeus muttered, “Suppose I will just hold off on orderin’ a rifle.” Pulling on his duster, gloves, and hat, he nodded to Willer. “Got to get down to Kent’s and assist Web in loadin’ supplies. We will stop by for my packages on the way out of town.”

“Perfect, I will have them prepared and waiting.”

With a tip of his hat, he left, and once outside, he laid his hand across the small box, nestled against his heart, and shook his head, “must be losin’ some of _m’_ sanity.” Swinging into the saddle, he put Cain in an easy trot down Wall Street, and when they came up to the Mercantile, Webster was plopping a fifty-pound bag of flour in the wagon.

Putting a hand over his eyes to block the sun, Webster peered up at Thaddeus, “Startin’ to think I up and made a mistake.”

“Nah, just failed to mention, Father wanted me to stop at Willer’s,” Thaddeus replied, dismounting and tying Cain well away from the freight team. “Hell, do not know what you are complainin’ at? You only just started loadin’.” Hopping up on the boardwalk, he pushed his hat back on his head, "I will be right back. I am--"

"Hold up." Webster shouted, “Box on the seat.”

Thaddeus rubbed the side of his nose with a frown.

"Taddy, you been takin’ home the same goods, from here, since you were fourteen."

Rolling his eyes, Thaddeus rummaged through the box, discovering: a tied bundle of Marsh Wheeling Cigars, three Bull Durham bags, rolling papers, five packs of short matches, a bag of peppermints, one of horehound, and another of red licorice whips. Pulling a whip from the bag, he slipped it into his mouth, ungraciously, grunting. “You got too many matches.”

" _Non_ ," Webster answered, shoving a box of can goods up the length of the wagon. "I did not.” Placing the palms of his hands on the tailgate, he looked up at Thaddeus. “Before a month is done, you is bummin' matches off anyone standin' still. So, I figured this might be enough to keep you from being a botherment."

A laugh rolled from Thaddeus, and shucking off his duster; he threw it on the wagon seat.

“Woo Wee! Look at you.” Webster hooted. “You look almost the part of a genuine _monsieur_.”

Thaddeus scratched at his left eyebrow with his middle finger.

“Like I said…” Webster shook his head, “…. almost.”

Thaddeus, again, scratched at his eyebrow while grinning like a skunk in strawberries.

Laughing heartily, Webster hefted another box from the boardwalk.

Grabbing a box, Thaddeus’ mischievous crooked smile wavered only as long as it took to switch the licorice whip to a new position. “Sides, who the hell wants to be a _monsieur_... even the air they breathe is tiresome."

“A day will come when you will change your mind.”

“Doubt it,” Thaddeus replied, sucking in the remainder of the candy. "Hey, when we finish here, how ‘bout I treat us to cold beers over at The Little Dipper before I swing by the barber.”

“Well, now, that does sound like something; I shall take you up on, _Monsieur_.”


	61. Chapter FIFTY-EIGHT

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Horses overflowed the hitching post, running along the front of The Little Dipper Saloon, and Thaddeus openly stared, full of curiosity as he rode on by, to dismount under a tree near the livestock barn’s corral.

As he secured Cain to a low limb, he heard a shouted, “By Gad, is it you?”

Just as he turned, Thaddeus was grabbed in a choking hug by Fox Northrup, “It is! It is you!! Damnation, I was just sayin' how blasted dull the spring jamborees were goin’ to be without you, Tad.”

Slapping him on the back a few times, Thaddeus broke free, “without _moi?_ ”

Strolling closer, Orville Riggs shook his head with a big smile. “Sure, nuff. Doc Mathews done come back from Sienna, last autumn, informin’ one and all it would be best to stay clear as the ague was fixin’ to make you a casualty.” Orville chuckled, popping Thaddeus on the shoulder. "And, seein’ how none of us has seen hide nor hair of you… well, we all got to thinkin’ the old Doc was right.” His smile turned a bit sheepish. “we all figured you was ‘neath the dirt in your family orchard.”

Jimmy Gamble and Gideon Barnett stood beside Orville like bookends, nodding in enthusiastic agreement.

Thaddeus looked from one to another in dumbfounded amazement.

Ramming his hands in his pockets, Fox peeked over at his friend, “we all considered ridin' out with condolences, but, then we decided, we did not wanna stir up your ladies . . . ‘specially Dora.” Fox’s sharp pointed grin appeared. “Still, we all felt damn sorry over your passin'."

Gideon nodded, spitting a glob of chaw juice in the dirt.

“We be surely sorry,” Jimmy said, scratching the side of his head. “We all had us a night where be getting hammered as a blind cobbler’s thumb, right here at the Dipper, in ya honor.”

A snort ripped from Thaddeus, “real fuckin’ kind of y’all. ‘Cepting, I never was dead, and you sure as hell could have asked Gabe.”

Rance McGreen, having walked up, said, “Well, the difficulty is Gabe ain’t much for havin' questions put to 'em."

"And he sure as hell, ain't said nary a word about you.” Orville Riggs put in, shifting his feet in the dirt. "We all talked it up amongst ourselves and concluded, him bein’ so blamed silent was ‘cause he was feelin’ so bad over havin’ buried ya.”

Gideon spit again, “And just like Fox said, we all thought it downright sorrowful.”

Thaddeus' brows lowered, his expression darkening.

Jimmy’s toothy smile appeared, and he punched Thaddeus in the arm, “God’s Curse, we be making a mess of it as ya purely be not looking any worse for it and all.”

Orville barked, “That is for sure! Now, what I want to know, is what in the hell that Mammy of yours has been feedin' you? Damnation, you are big as a top-dollar field hand.”

“Seems hard labor and _bonne_ livin’ suits _moi_ ,” Thaddeus answered.

Rolling up and setting the brake on the wagon, Webster’s eyes narrowed, beneath his low pulled hat, at the group of men, who had the look of spending more time loafing in their saddles than working their land.

Stepping closer, Rance cleared his throat, “Tad, since you been keepin’ yourself at Sienna, I am bettin’ you ain’t heard of’n us.” He motioned past those around him to the men over at the saloon. “We all are a portion of the gents who make up the Cass Cavaliers."

Thaddeus stood straighter.

Nodding to the Remington snugged against Thaddeus’ belly, Rance went on, “If'n I have heard right, you are mighty handy with that.”

Thaddeus nodded.

Rance rubbed his chin, “Well, I ain’t speakin’ for everyone; however, still, I am positive they all would be mighty pleased if'n you wanted to join us.”

Thaddeus licked his lips, fixing to say, ‘fuck yeah,’ when the thud of Webster's boot, kicking the sidewall of the wagon box, distracted him. Glancing up at Webster, he recalled what his answer was supposed to be, and lifting his eyes to the sunshine sparkling between leaves; he considered what to say.

That was when Valentine McCain knocked him hard across the back, “So, ya comin’ with us, _Taddy_? Ya, gonna show spine or keep yourself hidden away . . . like someone else?”

Thaddeus’ knuckles cracked as they rolled into tight balls, and Valentine's snide cackle dried up in his throat. Orville looked to Jimmy and Jimmy to Gideon, and others who had walked over began drifting back, all full well-knowing Thaddeus Crowe’s notable temper was fixing to bust loose.

When quick as a squirrel leaping across branches, Fox slung an arm about his pal's shoulders, “Hey now, I still say it is mighty fine to see you. I been missin’ you something pitiful."

Thaddeus smiled tightly at Fox, his eyes sliding round to the faces watching him, as he thought, ‘If’n I go home, they will be runnin’ their damn mouths ‘bout _moi_ like Gabe said they been doin’ ‘bout Lafe.' He glanced down, feeling caught with his foot on a trap. ‘Father’s been treatin’ _moi_ real decent, if’n I go and ride off, he is goin’ to be pissed as hell.’

Clearing his throat, Rance said, “Well, I am fixin’ to lead a patrol out; if’n you are a mind to, you are more than welcome to come along."

Not one to step back when the getting was good, Valentine sneered, "Yeah, ya’d be all right to have along . . . seein’ as ya do not seem the sort to start a fight, then run with ya tail ‘tween your legs." The crowd shifted, releasing muffled grumbles of agreement, and Valentine's smile rolled forth, revealing his two missing teeth along with his mean streak. "Loath to have the Counties thinkin' of ya as they do. Ain’t never got that sort of impression of ya…before.”

Thaddeus could feel his pulse in his temples and slanting an eye to Fox, who was still draped on his shoulder, a corner of his mind dredged up what Lafayette had said about patrols, although his words were being drowned out by his growing desire to take a turn on the trail, telling himself, ‘Ah, fuck it, why should Gabe be the only _une_ who gets to ride with the Cavaliers. I will patch things up with Father later.' Then with deliberate casualness, he said, “See, I ain’t set up for travelin'. Y’all, willin' to wait while I purchase a bait of supplies?”

“Sure thing,” Rance said, hitching a thumb back over his shoulder. “We will be at the Dipper.”

Grabbing his duster from the buckboard seat, Thaddeus pulled it on, and hearing a crumpling sound; he dug the letter from his pocket. His Father's emblem in the wax seal stared accusingly up at him, and taking a breath; he shoved the letter at Webster. “Stop by Willer’s and grab _mon_ packages, then make sure you post this afore headin' home.”

Not taking the envelope, Webster leaned down, whispering, “Mams reckoned you would up-and-run off if’n you slammed into the right bunch.”

Thaddeus sucked in his lower lip, his teeth biting into it.

“How ‘bout you not be provin’ her right, for once.”

“I gotta go.”

“ _Non,_ you do not.”

“I do.”

Snatching the envelope, Webster snarled low in his throat, “Well, I deem you is makin’ a powerful mistake.” Tucking it under the edge of the box, he rubbed at his eyes. “Course, I done known you, all your days…” and with a sigh, he flicked back the canvas tarp under the driver’s seat. “So, I packed this last night."

Thaddeus’ mouth fell open. “All creation, Web, I feel like givin' you a big old smooch.”

“Do not be tryin', 'cause I feel like knockin' you upside your head." Webster quietly replied, handing down a bedroll, canteen, ammunition, saddlebags loaded with food, and a portion of Thaddeus’ supplies from the mercantile.

While strapping his gear on Cain, Thaddeus’ dimple looked like it would permanently dent his face, as hard as he was grinning. Then Webster called to him in a tone that by no means matched the excitement he was feeling.

When Thaddeus turned, Webster was extending a Colt rifle, stored in a leather scabbard tooled with a fleur-de-lis and basket weave pattern. “Uh-huh, that is Lafe’s, and he made the boot himself; I better not.”

“I think you best.”

“Father pulled in some big markers to get that repeater for ‘em.” Thaddeus shook his head, “ _Non_ , I best not. _Mon gran frère_ would be fuckin' pissed if’n anything happened to it.”

“ _Oui_ , he would,” Webster replied, shoving the rifle with _LHBC_ engraved in its stock, toward Thaddeus. “He be more pissed, if’n anything happened to you. So, I judge he would want it with you, if’n he knew the trouble you were choosin’.”

Thaddeus took hold with a slow nod, except Webster still held tight and leaning down close, he whispered. “You comprehends when Mams sees only _moi_ she will set to weepin’ and will not cease 'til you show up.”

Thaddeus’ green eyes filled with unspoken worry, and he gulped, "I gotta go. I gotta. You tell ‘er, and tell ‘er, _Je t'aime_.”

Webster nodded, his face as taunt as stretched leather, “Do not be gettin' yourself killed. I will _jamais pardoner_ _mon_ self if’n you do, _Petit Frère._ ” Then raising his voice, for the others to hear, Webster said, “I will do all you bid afore headin’ home.” Picking up the team’s leads, he called, “Hep up, Tim. Hep up, Barney.”

With a creak, the wagon rolled off, and watching it with the heavyweight of the rifle in his hand, Thaddeus swallowed hard, feeling both very alone and incredibly young as Webster’s broad back moved further and further away.


	62. Chapter FIFTY-NINE

Chapter Fifty-Nine

**Wednesday 16 th of May 1860**

Throwing a leg across the shoulders of his saddle, Thaddeus shifted, getting more comfortable, and dug out his smoke makings, thinking, 'All of this is utter fuckin' bullshit! Cass Cavaliers, _m'_ ass! All we do is ride the legs off our _chevals_ and beg food off _familles_ who treat us like we are some sort of saviors. Come mornin'; I am damn-well headin' home. Leastwise, I am needed there.'

Lighting the smoke, he had put together, Thaddeus took a long draw that burnt up over half the little twisted cigarette. 'Simpleton's game is all this is, and _par Dieu,_ Gabe and I are damn-well havin' words 'bout it.' He took another drag, feeling the ember's heat as it neared his lips. 'Fuckin' bullshit him up and leavin' _moi_ to do all the work while he is off doin' _this_!'

Flicking the used-up cigarette away, he squinted at the far tree line where a thick black column of smoke rose into the sky like a peg-tied tornado. "Humph," he grunted, swinging his leg down, and hitching his toe in the stirrup. "That cannot be _bonne_."

"Huh? What?" Fox snorted, raising his lolling head and spying the black smoke; he whistled sharply.

The rest of the Cavaliers snapped to attention so fast; it was hard to believe they were the same feed sacks on horseback, who had been drowsing along the trail for the past hour.

Before leaving the Lil' Dipper, the couple of Cass Cavalier Lieutenants, who were present, hashed out regions to patrol while divvying up men. Rance McGreen had gotten the Massey cousins: Clyde and JT, Jimmy Gamble, Orville Riggs, Gideon Barnett, Micah Stephens, Valentine McCane, Lee Ball, Charlie Hammel, Common Smith, Fox Northup, and Tad Crowe for his trek over to and around Peculiar.

Looking down the line of them, he commanded, "Y'all sit cautious." His eyes strayed on JT, who was cutting up with Lee Ball, and he shook his head, thinking, 'JT, Lee, and Tad are all green; I should have only taken one of 'em.' Raising a hand, he jabbed a finger at JT Massey, "I mean it, keep your eyes, and ears open. . . all of'n you."

When he dropped his hand, the Cavaliers yipped, spurring their horses, and Cain's sod-eating stride had him breezing past the others just as if they were backing up.

"Crowe!" Rance hollered, "rein in before you get your head shot off!"

With the wind whipping in his ears, Thaddeus heard Rance holler, and shooting a look over his shoulder, saw he was out by himself, and knew then what Rance was barking about.

"Whoa, Cain." He leaned back, reining the stallion in, and with a toss of his head, Cain twisted, setting to outright bucking.

The rest of the Cavaliers flew by, spewing derisive remarks amongst guffaws of laughter.

Embarrassment seared down Thaddeus' back, and kicking Cain hard; he jerked him about in a tight circle. The stallion grunted, stiff leg hopping a bit, before giving in. Turning him a few more times, Thaddeus aimed him after the patrol, catching them as they were sailing over a split-rail fence.

They trotted down a rutted wagon lane, the smoke clinging to hickory trees like early morning fog, had their horses jigging along nervously snorting, and flicking their tails.

Each Cavalier sat taunt in their saddle, their muscles clenched in a combination of eagerness and fear. The lane narrowed, late afternoon shadows becoming eerie black stripes in the drifting smoke, and the skin along Thaddeus' arms and legs turned cold. He gulped a breath and coughed on the acidic smoke considering, 'Mayhap, I should have listened to _m' frères._. .and kept to Sienna _._ ' Leaning forward, he patted Cain's shoulder, more for his reassurance than the stallions.

Rance whistled low, pointing to Clyde.

With a nod, the lean man slid from his saddle, and throwing his reins at JT, he crept off, disappearing in the waving Bottlebrush Grass.

As they remained waiting, Cain's muscles twitched. With each twitch, Thaddeus' muscles bunched tighter. Beyond the tall grass and a short line of red cedars, he could see debris lifting and swirling against the sky. Each piece was thin and light as fairy gossamer, and as he watched, his awareness slipped away, becoming one with the eerie, ghostly dance. So, when Clyde's short whistle sang out, Thaddeus spooked, jumping in his saddle, startling Cain, so the horse skittered sideways.

Rance came across the short space separating them, slamming his big, muscled gelding into Cain, his deep blue-gray eyes boring into Thaddeus. "Get 'em under control and pay attention! All y'all pay attention."

With one final furious scowl, Rance led them at a gallop across the field; racing down the line of cedar trees, they came onto the farm close to a burning barn. Its flames were leaping twenty, or more feet in the air, with crackling sparks lighting the sky like a swarm of fireflies. When with a whooshing crash, the roof collapsed in, the timbers tumbling down like rolling thunder.

Cain darted backward, along with several other horses; the whites of their eyes gleaming bright as they squealed out their fear.

Thaddeus hollered, “Jesus Christ!”

Orville, calmly, replied, "You will not be findin' em nowheres round here."

"Spread out, make sure there ain't no bluecoats still hangin' about," Rance ordered.

Jimmy Gamble, called, "Orville, this be George Starks place, do it not?"

Orville's face furrowed into a deep frown, and he grunted, "It is."

Cain was near all-out exploding, and Thaddeus found himself wishing he were on a more seasoned animal. Slapping the stallion's wither to draw his attention from his rising anxiety, he then spun him in a series of tight circles to further distract the horse's mind. All the while, hoping his fear was not so easy to see when, suddenly, he caught sight of a man, in the distance, silhouetted against the burning house. Gasping, " _bordel de merde!_ " He spun Cain off toward the man.

"NO!" Rance hollered, "Halt, damn it, Crowe, HALT!"

Back when the Cass Cavaliers were formed, Rance McGreen's experience, garnered from five years of border marauding, had made him a natural choice for a Cavalier, despite his humble origins. He had been proud to be nominated as a Lieutenant. Nevertheless, he quickly discovered, he needed rich men's sons in his Unit. For having their names attached made everything; his patrol did honorable. The difficulty was these boys were often cocky, reckless, and worse foolish. Which switched Rance's position from being a leader to a teacher, a chaperone, and caretaker as not one of them arrived, understanding they needed to guard their very lives from men, who were overjoyed to cut them down like weeds encroaching on a field.

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Rance turned to chase after Thaddeus, hollering, "Common…you, Orville, and Gid get the others scoutin' the perimeter."

The snapping, cracking flames leaping from the Stark's home caused Cain to back up, snorting, pawing the ground. Leaping off, Thaddeus ran the rest of the way on foot.

As he drew closer, the fire's heat encircled him tightening his skin even as a cold shiver ran down his back, for dangling from the porch's awning was a man. Thaddeus' eyes darted from the man's hands coated in fibrous hemp rope strands to his booted toes barely touching the withering grass. When he inhaled, roasting flesh filled his nostrils, and staring open-mouthed into the man's pulverized, bubbling face, he thought, ' _Pour l'amour de Dieu,_ they beat 'em half to death, then left 'em to bake and strangle.'

"Fall back!" Rance ordered, pushing his gelding, Big Mack, between Thaddeus and the dead man. His bowie knife glinted orange in the flame light, and then the body hit the ground but not with a thud. It crumpled, making the sound one might imagine a stomped-on toad would make.

Thaddeus tripped on his feet, crashing to his knees, he coughed once, and all he had eaten was heaving out in huge gushes. When he stopped, he rolled back onto his heels, digging his Mother's crucifix from beneath his shirt. Kissing the graven image, he rubbed a rough hand across his wet eyes and, hearing footsteps, lunged to his feet.

"Better?"

He nodded loosely, his face hot as he shoved the crucifix back into hiding.

"Do not be ashamed." Rance flung an arm off toward the others. "We all done seen butchery that has caused us to spill out. Trick is to let that rotten feeling settle in you. Let it become part of you, and when it has . . . you twist it. You twist it into hatred, and then you use it 'gainst 'em. You do that, and I swear. . . you will not break down, not ever again." Pulling his canteen off his saddle, he handed it to Thaddeus. "Want you to move Mr. Stark away from the fire, and I will send someone over to assist you in burying 'em." Shaking his head at the crumbling house, Rance said, "Sure is a shame. He done built his family a real nice place here." Taking his canteen back, he rode off.

Releasing a long shaky breath, Thaddeus took hold of George Stark's shoulders, dragging him to the soft dirt of the kitchen garden. Still feeling shaky, he squatted to arrange the dead man's outstretched limbs, and a blood-curdling scream reached for him.

Looking up, he saw the woman right before she knocked him back, her knees pitting his chest as her fists pummeled his shoulders and face.

Throwing up his arms, he bawled. “Ma’am _s'il vous plaît_! _S'il vous plaît_!”

One of her fists connected with his nose, and an eruption of pain, exploded across his face, bringing hot tears to his eyes. Before she could strike him again, he trapped her to his chest.

She screeched and squirmed like a trapped coon. Wriggling an arm free, she twisted, reaching for his eyes.

"Ma'am!" he howled, craning away from her bared nails.

A pitiful wail rose from her, and she lunged harder for his face.

Arching his back, he got a foot under him, flipping the pair of them, so they slammed into the ground. The impact and his weight atop her reduced the woman to gasping sobs. Shoving off her, he clutched a hand to his face. "Fuck! I think you broke _m'_ nose."

"Move!" Orville ordered, pushing at Thaddeus, "Mrs. Emma…," he snatched off his hat, kneeling, "Mrs. Emma, we ain't here to harm ya, Mrs. Emma."

Brushing her hair from her face, the woman's large, round, blue eyes avidly searched Orville from his mustache that grew down his chin, to his long-upturned nose, to his dull blue eyes, and licking her lips; she whispered, "Orville Riggs?"

"Yes 'um, Ma'am."

"Why your elder sister, Marceline. . ." Her voice had a distant, hollow sound, ". . . is married to my cousin, Victor."

"Yes 'um, Ma'am, she is." Standing, Orville gently lifted Mrs. Emma to her feet.

She collapsed against him, staring open-mouthed at the circle of men, and when she came to Thaddeus, still, kneeling in the grass, she stopped. Her gaze focused on his right hand, clasped below his injured nose with blood oozing between the fingers. When a drop spattered to the ground, she throatily called, "George!" Pushing from Orville, she bolted for her husband.

However, Orville was too fast and had her wrapped tightly in his arms before she made it more than a step. "No, Mrs. Emma, those men they…" He urged, stroking her hair. "Shh, ya gotta remember 'em as he was. Ya do not want to see 'em this way."

She pushed against him, struggling, then all at once collapsed, crying to empty her soul.

"Shall we bury 'em for ya," Orville said, and feeling her nod against his chest, he nodded to the others and led her away. But, looking back, he called, "Tad, ya come along with me."


	63. Chapter SIXTY

Chapter Sixty

Orville eased Emma Stark to the ground at the edge of a young row of apple trees, and returning to Thaddeus, standing a short distance away, he ordered. “You watch over ‘er. I need to ask ‘round.”

“‘Bout _qu’elle_?”

Orville’s brows furrowed, “her children.” Orville swallowed hard. “Want no argument from ya, Tad, ya stay with ‘er.”

Doing as told, and looking anywhere but at Emma Stark, Thaddeus dabbed, gingerly, at his nose with his handkerchief, thinking, ‘leastways, it ain’t bleedin’ no more . . . still fuckin’ hurts.’

“Come here.”

He spun; one hand cupped over his injury.

Emma Stark patted the ground, “here.”

Hesitantly, he shoved his handkerchief away and shuffled over to peer at her from behind his hand and long bangs.

She patted the grassy spot again, and, warily, he took a seat.

“Let me see,” she said, pulling gently at his hand, encouraging him to lower it, and with a small, sad, smile she swept his hair back. “Why, you are only a boy.” Cupping his face between her cold hands, she frowned and then brought her hands together, pinching and aligning the bridge of his nose.

“Ouch!!!” He roared, falling over, tears flooding his cheeks, and his empty stomach flopping like a bucket rolling down a hill.

“Had to be done,” she said, pulling him upright. “Let me see.”

This time, he flinched from her.

“I shan’t hurt you. Not again, but; we could not leave it bent like that; it would have caused you breathin’ difficulties.” Tucking his bangs behind his ears, she wiped where the tears had leaked from his eyes. “Just a boy,” and with a choked cry, she pulled him into her arms, “Your Mother must be frettin’ herself ill over you.”

As she held him tight, Orville, Gideon, and Clyde drifted up.

“Mrs. Emma. . .” Orville said low and soft, twisting his hands together behind his back. “Ain’t none of us seen your children. Were they here today?”

“My sweet boys,” her grip on Thaddeus increased, “they were with George when those men came.”

“Where was that, Ma'am?”

When she pointed toward the setting sun, Thaddeus twisted, making his escape. Taking a shaky, shuddering breath, she watched him climb to his feet. “My Sam, ain’t no older than that one.” Standing, she cupped a hand over her eyes. "Tell me your name." 

Glancing to the older men, Thaddeus realized she meant him. "Tad Crowe."

“I apologize for attackin' you, Tad.”

“It is all right, Ma’am.”

Abruptly, tears flowed in streams from her blue eyes. “My boys. . .” She wrapped her arms tight about her ribcage. "They were out brandin’ calves in the west field with…. George." She began rocking, "Y’all go tell Sam, Will, and Jeb their Mother needs ‘em."

“Will do, Ma’am,” Gideon answered.

Rushing forward with a wild, touched look, she snagged hold of Orville’s arm. “Y'all. . .” She glared at Gideon and Clyde “… oughta be ashamed, breakin’ a Mother’s heart by takin’ boys along with you.” She looked accusingly to Thaddeus, “Y'all take that one and any others like ‘em back to their Ma’s.”

Orville only nodded, slipping gently from her grip.

“Oughta be ashamed. And, Tad Crowe, you go home to your Ma!" Then the quick snap of anger drained from her, and she dropped to the ground.

Squatting and touching her shoulder, Orville intoned in a hushed voice, “Mrs. Emma…?”

“Night's comin’, you bring my boys in.”

Walking swiftly away from Emma Stark and her palpable grief that somehow made him feel guilty, whistling Cain up, Thaddeus thought, ‘she will be better after we fetch her sons,’ he thought and, leaping into the saddle, raced for the west pasture.

He was hardly through the gate, and in the orange glare of the setting sun, a patch of dark earth, torn and churned by spinning horses, stood out. He slowed his horse to a walk until the coppery scent of blood had Cain snorting and side-stepping. Dismounting, Thaddeus dropped the reins, ground tying the big gray.

Wading through a clutch of calves bawling for their stolen mothers, his gut clenched tight, and stumbling on a rolled edge beneath his foot; he looked down.

By his foot lay a branding iron and, next to it, an outstretched hand. His stomach lurched. Averting his eyes, he focused on his jumbled emotions until he felt his anger starting to simmer. Waving his arms, he shouted, scattering the calves.

For a long, drawn-out moment, he stared down at the black powder burn surrounding the purplish hole in the boy’s forehead. Then kneeling, he swallowed several times, trying to remove the dryness from his throat, he muttered. “You must be Sam.” The branding iron was digging into his knee, and wrapping his hand about its cold shaft, he hefted the tool. “This is all you fuckin’ had? You rushed ‘em with this?” He flung the brand across the field and, for a time, stared off at nothing at all.

Cain snorted, and Thaddeus looked to Samuel Stark, grinding his teeth along his lower lip as he did so, for not five feet away were his younger brothers. Their mouths were hanging open in eternal screams, their faces twisted by pain into expressions of pure horror.

“Tad?!”

Thaddeus shot to his feet and running; he launched himself into the saddle, charging on by Jimmy, Orville, Gideon, and Rance.

The Cavaliers had done what they could for Emma Stark, which included burying her husband and three children. Nevertheless, it all felt so feeble and worthless that it had left Thaddeus feeling empty. Now, hours later, he shivered in the cold, dank darkness.

In his dream, the brothers had not been the Starks, but himself with his brothers. It had been Lafayette’s corpse lying across him, and somehow, it was like he could still feel his dead weight atop him. Sitting up, Thaddeus stared into the still night, listening to the soft breathing of the men around him. Taking a ragged, deep breath, he rubbed a hand up his face. When he encountered his nose, he hissed sharply, cursing under his breath as tears sprang to his eyes. “Well, I am done sleepin’.”

Walking into the starlit darkness, he whistled a low warbling sound like a lost soul on the wind, and the hoot of an owl replied. Switching direction, he let go a short one-note whistle.

Orville stepped from a clutch of young Pin Oaks, whispering, “is it three already?”

Ducking in next to him, Thaddeus answered, “ _Non_ , I cannot sleep. Ain’t much fuckin' sense _moi_ lyin' there. Figure, I will take your place, and you can get some shut-eye.”

Orville grinned, “thanks,” and patting Thaddeus on the shoulder; he walked off. However, in a few steps, he turned back with a frown. “Taddy, ya, all right?”

Thaddeus bristled. He had made a point, over two years ago, that no one outside his family should call him by his child’s name. However, Orville kept slipping back to it. “Why the fuck would I not be, Riggs?”

Returning, Orville squatted next to him. “Ya got a full dose today. I been ridin' patrols most of a year and the Starks…” He scratched at the back of his head, “that was a rough one.”

Thaddeus looked out into the silent night, the muscles in his jaw flexing.

Orville took a seat, and with a sigh, softly said, “Geez, Taddy, but when I saw them three Stark boys. . . well, I found myself wishin' Gabe were here on this run with ya.”

Thaddeus chewed at the cuticle of his index finger, vividly recalling the three dark-haired brothers, down to the last details. “Why do you think they took sport in murderin’ em?”

“I have not the slightest inkling. That little one, Jeb, when I laid ‘em in the ground…. I thought he could not be more than ten.” Orville sniffed hard, studying Thaddeus, whose green eyes were shining like wet grass in the pale light of the waning moon. “Mrs. Emma told me, they not only took all the stock, but they looted her home before burnin' it.” Scooping out his chaw, Orville flung it off into a patch of tall grass. “She said they kept on at George, ‘bout when last it was, he rode with Baker, Johnson, Clayton, and Greenwood. Seems they was wantin’ to know where to find ‘em.”

Thaddeus asked, “Johnson?” His voice rose an octave, “Brody Johnson?”

“She only said, Johnson. There are a good deal of ’em ‘bout.”

Thaddeus' throat went dry.

“Do not be worryin’ too much on it.”

“ _Qu’elle_ if’n they did mean Brody?”

Orville knocked Thaddeus across the shoulders. “Most likely ain’t ‘em, but even so, them cowardly Kansans ain’t much for goin’ near big towns like Harrisonville.”

“You think so?”

“It is what they have always done. Harrisonville is too big, so it is safe. I know it is." Orville declared, stretching out his long legs and throwing his hat on the ground. “Know what else?”

“Hmm?”

“I am plenty comfortable right here. Do not think I will bother with a bedroll tonight.”

“Orville, I am fuckin’ fine. Go on back to camp.” Thaddeus said, loosening his Remington in its holster.

“Oh, I never figured you otherwise. Like, I said I am comfortable. Besides, I thought perhaps ya might tell me how Lafayette is."

" _Qu’elle_ for, so you can run 'em up the pole like all the other fuckers have?"

"Why no, I miss jawin' with 'em over a poker game. By Jiminy, I bet he is cleanin' the tables down in Louisiana.”

Thaddeus arched a brow at Orville.

“Taddy, I want ya to know, I ain’t spoken one word against that brother of yours, not one. Hell, it was y'alls Pa who ordered ‘em to escort your sisters South. What else was he to do, disobey y'alls Pa? Them that have been jackin' their lame-brained jaws about Lafayette, well, they ain't worth a Mormon’s prig. Bunch of damn fools is what they are, 'cause any man who knows your brother, knows he is as far from what they are sayin’ as a polecat is from a kitty cat."

Thaddeus tore a small branch off the tree and began breaking it to pieces.

"Tell you something else, Taddy. Ain't a one of ’em jackasses who will not be singin' a different tune when his boots hit Missouri soil. Lafayette might talk fancy and dress his self all citified, but he is one hellish scrapper. My hand to God, when he steps up to a fight, he sure ain't one to hold back, and pain do not slow 'em down none neither." Orville grinned, "I sure would not want to tangle with 'em, nope, not ever."

Thaddeus’ crooked grin slipped free, his temper cooling.

"Fact is I ain't heard much about any of your clan, as of late. Since we got us time, why do you not go on and give me an ear full.”

Setting back against a tree, Thaddeus began to ramble about anything that came to mind, and the more he talked, the more the grisly images of both the day and his dream slipped away. After a while, he heard Orville snoring but kept right on talking, waiting for the light of a new day to put it all behind him.


	64. Chapter SIXTY-ONE

Chapter Sixty-One

**Friday 18 th of May 1860**

Gunfire echoed along the valley, a precise sound that plucked a chord deep inside a man, making him aware if he was courageous or not, and Fox yipped. "Y'all hear that?"

Orville answered, "Heard it and ready."

Laying heels to his big sorrel, Rance called, "Cavaliers ride!"

Keeping Cain in pace with his pals, Thaddeus dodged a low limb; coming up with a grin spreading across his face, he pulled his pistol.

However, rather than a battle yell filling the air when the Cavaliers sprang from the thick Missouri tree line, it was surprised yelps. Each veering to avoid running over, exhausted men and horses scrambling to escape the Jayhawkers, who, in every way, believed their prey had just become easy kills.

Cain swerved hard and stretching out; he raced through the chaos, arider wearing red leather leggings appeared before them, his pistol spewing flame. The hours of target practice took over, Thaddeus' left arm came up, without so much as a thought, and this time it was a spray of blood that let him know he had hit his mark.

The Jayhawker flew back, plunging to the ground.

'You shot 'em.' The notion felt strange to Thaddeus, and circling Cain around the dying man, he thought, ' _Qu'elle_ do I do? Should I…' He shook his head, 'do I ride on?' Lost in his confusion of what he had done, he forgot where he was.

Then a bay horse crashed into him, the impact spinning the stallion. Glimpsing a saber aimed at separating his head from his shoulders, Thaddeus flailed out with the Remington in hopes of blocking the blood-streaked blade. By sheer, pure luck, he instead buffaloed his enemy. The man listed in his saddle like a wobbly child's toy, and yanking a foot free, Thaddeus kicked out, sending the Federalist sprawling to the blood-spattered grass.

Another man fired on him, the lead mini ball tearing into the Colt rifle’s scabbard, ripping through the basketweave design. Once more, Thaddeus only reacted, and a second blue-clad man was flopping from his saddle.

Seeing no one else, he spun Cain, trying to get his bearings; he looked left and right, his blood pounding in his ears like he had just run a mile. Then clear as a single raindrop running down a pane of glass, he sighted a burly, buckskin-garbed man, on a paint horse, coming right at him.

Aiming, Thaddeus squeezed off a shot.

The man jerked to the side, even as smoke blossomed from his rifle, and with a scream, Cain reared, his black stockings striking the sky.

Thaddeus gulped, " _Bordel de merde_!" His attention switching to Cain. Seeing blood on the stallion's shoulder, he bent for a better look. Then he was struck in the head, bursts of light exploding in his eyes, and he was dropping from his saddle.

Lying flat on his back in the patch of bobbing Seed Grass, with a high-pitched hum filling his ears, the battle seemed far away, but a corner of his brain started screaming over the hum, 'get up, get up, get up.' With a grunt, he forced himself to his feet, the delicate spider web of seeds whirling just as wildly about him as the blue sky did before his eyes. Then he saw the paint horse running his way with his hooves throwing clods of dirt and lurching on legs that did not feel like his own; Thaddeus ran backward. Remembering his pistol, he raised it, and the moment he squeezed the Remington's trigger, he tripped, his feet leaving the ground.

For a drawn-out breath, he was floating…. in his nose was the scent of horses, crushed grass, blood, and cordite, while far above him was the bluest sky he felt he had ever seen. Then he slammed down, sliding to a stop in the greasy buffalo grass. All he could feel was pain; it seemed to be trying to scratch its way out through his very skin, and the more he inhaled, the more pain he felt. ' _Jésus a pleuré,_ I cannot get _m'_ wind.'

Rolling over, gripping tight of his burning chest, he stared straight into a pair of blue eyes nestled in a pulpy mess of blood and bone. Then his mind put together what he was seeing, and a strangled cry leapt from him. His head spinning, Thaddeus lurched to his feet, slipping on the bloody grass; he crashed to the hard earth, knocking what felt like the remaining air from his lungs. He was gasping, struggling to his knees when a shadow covered him.

In a tone as calm as speaking of the weather, the paint's rider, who was big enough to spook a bear, said, "You fuckin' Missouri puke, you shot my fuckin' ear off and fuckin' killed Yegua." Then he kicked Thaddeus over, planting his knee in his chest. "Best fuckin' horse I ever had." He shifted, sliding down to straddle Thaddeus. "Damn fine animal; she never knew what quit meant."

Thaddeus' eyes went from the gory, dangling remains of the man's ear to the thick, white scar dividing his face. Closing his eyes, he prayed, ' _s' il vous plaît, Dieu,_ help _moi,_ before this _bâtard_ kills _moi.'_

"I can smell fear rising right off you, Boy."

Then an image of his nickel-plated Remington filled Thaddeus' mind, and his eyes popped open with a smile. Lifting his left hand... he found it empty. Angry that he had lost his one sure chance, he snarled, his hand becoming a fist.

The fringe on the man's shirt swayed as he batted Thaddeus' fist away like it was no more than a buzzing fly and jamming a blade to his throat; he ordered, "Hold still!"

The cold, sharp edge made Thaddeus fall back, sweat beading up along his body.

The man stood on his knees, his close-set eyes scanning the field of waist-high grass before returning to Thaddeus. "Fighting's drifted off east." He looked around once more. When he was done, he sneered, settling his weight across Thaddeus' mid-section. "Seems we have been left all on our lonesome."

Thaddeus' face twisted into a scowl. With his lungs beginning to draw in air, he could feel his strength returning, and shifted, ready to knock this man off him.

With a grin, the man added pressure to the blade, and it sank effortlessly into the soft skin of Thaddeus' neck with blood pooling along its shiny edge.

Thaddeus froze.

"You were not planning on fuckin' leaving, were you? Hell, we ain't nearly done. See, Boy, you owe me. I liked that horse, stole her from a Pawnee I cut down, and you up and slaughtered her. For that matter. . ." He grinned, the thick scar pulling his face into a maniacal, ghoulish mask. "I was also partial to my ear." Snagging Thaddeus' jaw, he tilted his face one direction and then the other, "My, my…." He licked his lips with a craving moan, "just had me an idea."

The skin prickled along Thaddeus' scalp, his bright green eyes becoming the size of silver dollars as he pressed himself back into the ungiving ground.

"Under them bruises, ain't you a pretty one." Another one of those maniacal smiles leered down on Thaddeus as the man ground his hardening groin into him.

With a snarl, Thaddeus' reached for the man's throat, except the blade's edge dug deeper, and he felt a warm stream of blood worming its way down his neck.

"I will fuckin' slit you. But, only enough to drain you slow." The scarred man traced a thumb along Thaddeus' sharp jawline, "Damnation, it has been too long since I had a boy."

Thaddeus' eyes rolled, showing their whites as he, again, pressed back into the ground this time to escape the hot, putrid breath as the man leaned closer into him, and then his lips were savagely crushing his.

No longer caring if his throat was slit, Thaddeus twisted from the man, screaming, "Get the fuck off _moi_!" And, drawing up a knee, he dug it into his attacker's swollen groin.

The big man balled up atop him, and using all the strength he could muster, Thaddeus shoved against him, slithering free. Just as he was ready to stand, a hand latched hold of his right leg, and a guttural laugh erupted from the man, "Not a bad try, Boy, but I got plans for you."

Kicking, twisting, and screaming like a coyote in a steel trap, Thaddeus clutched at the grass, ripping hunks free as the man reeled him in, and as he neared, he tried to kick him in the face.

Except, with a grin, the man dodged the kick. Smiling larger, he latched hold of Thaddeus' trousers at his groin and, using this new hold, drug him closer, with a cackling laugh. "Although, I am seeing, I need to knock a bit of fight out of you," and to illustrate his point, he slammed the meaty side of his fist into Thaddeus' left ear.

Stunned, Thaddeus fell back, his arms falling lax, and it was in that moment, his palm slid across something he recognized. Grasping hold, he raised the Remington his father had explicitly ordered for him and levered back the familiar hammer.

The big man's small eyes bulged, and he reached for the pistol.

Simultaneously, a ragged scream spiraled from Thaddeus, and pulling the trigger, he made the man's right eye disappear.

The man collapsed, blanketing Thaddeus.

Heaving out a shallow, shuddering breath, Thaddeus closed his eyes, and the man's head rolled on his shoulder like a lovers, his dead weight crushing into him, just like his kiss had. Thaddeus whimpered, wanting to cry. Swallowing against the tightness in his throat, he cursed himself, and with a roar, battled himself free of the corpse.

Staggering a few steps away, "I.. I. . ." he looked back, "I killed you….you fuckin' depraved _bâtard_." Rubbing roughly at his mouth, Thaddeus nodded, "I killed you." Turning slowly, taking in everything and nothing all at once, he muttered. "Where did everyone go?"

Limping further from his attacker, he slid down a steep ridge into a winding dry ditch that had been created by decades of spring floods. Taking a seat, he leaned against the smooth embankment, and releasing a long, quaking breath; he focused on replacing the used-up cylinder. Then dug out his smoke fixings.

His hands shook, causing him to spill more tobacco than he poured into the folded paper. Blowing air up his face, he tried to steady himself, thinking, 'my throat hurts like I been yellin' at a horse race all day.' Biting the string of his Durham tobacco bag, he cinched it closed, frowning as he did so, not wanting to admit, even to himself, that his throat hurt because he had been screaming.

Unconsciously, he rubbed his neck, painting his fingers red and only noticing when he saw the blood on his delicate cigarette paper. _'Zut!'_ Rolling the paper, he licked the bloody edges closed, popping the quirley in his mouth.

Hoping to lessen the sharp whine echoing in his ears, he plugged them with his fingers, forcing out a vast yawn; when it failed to work, he struck a lucifer stick on his boot heel. Inhaling the flame, he exhaled smoke and flicked the dead match away. 'I need to whistle Cain up, see to his wound.' Regardless of this, he only stared at his boot heel and the thin, sharp dry grass around it while releasing streams of blue-gray smoke into the air.


	65. Chapter SIXTY-TWO

Chapter Sixty-Two

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, there you are!”

Pulling the Remington and spinning, Thaddeus fell back against the opposite bank of the low wash.

“Taddy _! Qu’elle_ in holy hell are you doin’ here?”

Thaddeus blinked, a twisted, squeamish grin taking over his blood-spattered face. “How did you know I was here?”

“‘Cause of ‘em.”

Standing to see where Gabriel was pointing, Thaddeus saw his dapple-gray stallion grazing a short distance away.

“ _Jésus a pleuré_ , how much of that blood is yours?”

Thaddeus shrugged, “not much.”

Growling, Gabriel snagged hold of his brother, hauling him from the ditch. After turning him this way and that, discovering his healing broken nose, a squashy goose egg lump behind his right ear, and a jagged slice along his throat that was gumming closed, he rolled his eyes.

When he did, a crooked, reckless grin mockingly appeared, “see just like I said, Gabe.”

“ _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ ,” Gabriel groaned, pulling him into a crushing hug, “when I saw Cain, and his saddle was fuckin’ empty. . . _Jésus a pleuré,_ I could hardly think straight.”

“I am all right.”

“Suppose you are.” Gabriel grumbled, hugging him closer, “ _merciful Dieu._ ”

“Come on, Gabe, you are bein’ as mollycoddlin’ as Mams.”

A grizzly bear rumble rose from Gabriel that resembled a laugh, and he shoved Thaddeus pinwheeling away to land on his backside. " _Zut, Frere!_ Now, tell _moi, qu’elle_ you are doin’ here?”

Climbing back to his feet, Thaddeus turned to watch Cain, placidly grazing. Taking a deep pull of air, he adjusted his hat and then straightened his rig.

“Your ass is supposed to be at home!”

For a brief moment, Thaddeus looked directly at his elder brother and then turned back to Cain, releasing a low, lilting whistle. The grey’s head shot up, his ears pricking toward Thaddeus.

“ _Zut,_ I know you hear _moi_? _”_

“I do.”

“Then why in the hell, can you not fuckin’ obey?”

“You know you sound a lot like Father.”

Gabriel’s nostrils flared.

Thaddeus whistled again for Cain and began walking toward the horse.

“Squirt, you take _une_ more damn step, without answerin’, and you are goin’ to regret it.”

Thaddeus halted, his shoulders drooping, “Can you not leave _moi_ fuckin’ be?”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened, and he caught up Cain’s dragging leather split reins when the horse came trotting toward them.

Thaddeus held out a hand for the reins.

Instead, Gabriel crossed his arms.

Standing straighter, Thaddeus raised his chin, striving to match his elder brother’s intensity. Instead, he realized how concerned Gabe was and quickly averted his eyes, which became even greener as they filled with tears. Inhaling hard, he pulled out his crucifix.

Watching his brother’s left thumb trace over the crucifix’s graven image, Gabriel let go a sigh that sounded like a last breath, and uncrossing his arms, offered the reins. “ _Chiant!_ Appears you have seen the elephant. Ain’t you?” He rubbed at his eyes, “Ain’t some storybook hero adventure at all, is it?”

Letting go of the cross, Thaddeus took his reins, brushing away a tear that had escaped from his thick, black lashes.

" _Zut,_ Taddy.”

Releasing a shuddering breath, Thaddeus bent to inspect the blood sprayed across Cain’s shoulder. At his touch, the horse flinched but then leaned into him, “looks to be only a crease, sure is goin’ to leave _une_ hell of a scar.”

When without any warning, Gabriel solidly shoved Thaddeus between the shoulder blades, slamming him straight into the stallion. “ _Je m'en fous!_ Damnation, Squirt for once, could you not do as told!”

Bellowing like a bull, Thaddeus spun his hands, clenching into fists.

Eying his raised fists, Gabriel held out a hand, “Squirt. . . you do as you are considerin’, and I will damn well break your nose for you again.”

Thaddeus’ brows knotted into one dark, matted mess.

“Think hard on it, Taddy.”

The green eyes narrowed until no green could be seen, and with a snort, Thaddeus turned, retrieving the canteen from his saddle.

Exhaling slowly, Gabriel shook his head, turning his back on his brother to scan the battlefield's broken, battered prairie grass. After a full minute of silence, he breached the quiet with a cough. “I started searchin’ for you soon as I spotted Cain.” Taking off his hat, he ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. “Part of _moi_ kept sayin’ if’n you holler for Taddy, you can find ‘em faster.’ I never did.” He popped the hat against his leg, swallowing hard. “I was too scared you would not answer.” Placing his hat back on, he tugged it down snug. “ _Petit frère,_ all this damn fightin’ will be settled soon enough. I just did not want you to have any fuckin’ part in it.”

Looking to see if his brother was listening, Gabriel snorted at Thaddeus’ pinched, argumentative scowl, “ _Zut!_ I know you do not like bein’ treated like a _garçon._ But, _par Dieu,_ it is what you are.” Exhaling, Gabriel laid his fingers to his lips, whistling high and sharp. “ _Jésus a pleuré,_ it seems not so long ago you were just a portion of Lafe’s shadow, now he is gone, and well, I do not recognize the man you are becomin’. But, Taddy, you ain’t a man yet, you just ain’t!”

Turning and scanning the field again, Gabriel saw Artorius was coming on at a walk. “Taddy, I get that you do not want to hear _moi._ I get it….that it is easier to let your anger stoke up…and there are too many times; I should have done more for you.” The corner of his mouth quirked, “You know it, and I know it. Well, I planned on makin’ amends to you during all this Border _connerie_ by keepin’ you out of it. But, fuck _moi,_ you cannot listen, you just had to insert yourself into this fuckin’ hell.” Laying a hand on the shoulder of the big red horse that bumped against him, Gabriel stroked the gelding. “All I wanted to do was protect you.” He looked away, “. . . and you would not let _moi.”_

“Gabe--”

His brother shook his head, “You ain’t ever goin’ to be the same. Some would say your innocence is gone, but that is too simple, too tidy of a turn of words. _Non,_ you have seen the beastly monstrosities men can commit, and worse, you allowed the beast in _you_ …right out into the sunlight for _Dieu_ and all to see. You have the sin of blood on your hands now, _Frère._ You ain’t never goin’ be an innocent _garçon_ again. That part of you is dead. Dead as the men lying around us. What you have seen. What you have done. . . not only did it kill that part of you, it will haunt you, not just in your sleep, but when you fuckin’ least expect it.”

The horse shoved his head into Gabriel’s chest, “ _Bonne garçon,_ Artorius,” Gabriel cooed, and when he, at last, turned his eyes to his younger brother, he saw his face was buried in Cain’s long silvery mane.

Leaning into his stallion, inhaling the animal’s salty scent, Thaddeus knew Gabriel was correct. All he had seen slammed about inside him like driftwood on a rushing river. The horrid smell of George Stark’s cracked, charred skin. The damp, dark earth that had smeared his clothes as he helped dig the Stark’s graves. Emma’s stomach-wrenching grief. The startled agony in the faces of those he had killed. The heart-stopping fear that nearly choked him in battle that had shrunk before his bloodlust. How spurting blood felt hot on his skin like an errant cinder from a fire. Overall of it, he saw the grinning scar-faced man rutting against him as if he were nothing but meat to the man.

The images kept swirling by behind his closed eyes, so much so, he did not notice Gabriel’s approach at all, and when his brother laid a hand on his shoulder, he yelped, spinning to defend himself.

“Easy, Taddy, easy now.”

Nodding, he swabbed a sleeve across his cheek, smearing the blood and dirt. When he looked up, there was a handkerchief in Gabriel’s hand; its edge covered in a blue stitch design.

Swiping a hand under his chin, Thaddeus knocked off the tears gathered there, a shudder running through him when his touch dirtied the clean, white square of cloth.

Seeing how Thaddeus was staring in horror at the kerchief Eudora had made, Gabriel sighed, “ah, Hell.” Wrapping his arms about his little brother, he pulled him in close, resting his chin atop his head until his ragged, hiccupping sobs faded away. When they did, Gabriel stepped back, still holding Thaddeus’ upper arms, “it will be all right.”

Thaddeus bowed his head.

Giving his biceps a tight squeeze before letting go, Gabriel said, “go on and clean your face. You are ‘bout painted red.”

With a hard sniff, Thaddeus nodded.

Gabriel pulled Artorius closer, “Hey.”

From the corner of his eye, Thaddeus peeked over.

“Despite everything, you will _toujours_ be a _garçon_ to _moi.”_

Thaddeus’ frowned.

“You are _m’ petit frère,_ ain’t you? Means you will _toujours_ be younger, and I will _toujours_ be here to watch over you.”

Thaddeus sniffed with a nod.

Dropping Artorius’ reins, Gabriel patted Thaddeus’ shoulder, “bring ‘em with you and Cain, once you get yourself cleaned up.”


	66. Chapter SIXTY-THREE

Chapter Sixty-Three

From his spot atop Cain, Thaddeus sat unmoving, the blood-red gelding and silver dapple stallion standing out in dramatic contrast to the indigo blue of the approaching storm as he kept a watchful eye.

A cold wind rushed in, swirling about Gabriel lifting his hat; tightening his stampede strings, he shoved a handful of money in his pocket. Then hooking the haversacks and holsters he had collected on the barrel of a Sharp’s rifle, he stood.

As he waded through the waist-high grass, Gabriel shifted the weighted rifle, trying to find a more comfortable spot on his shoulder. Watching his brother, he could read fury rolling from him; pausing, he shook his head and aimed for Artorius.

Slapping his horse’s hip affectionately, he set to hanging the haversacks on his saddle, and behind him, the loose clothing of the dead he had rifled snapped like fresh laundry on a summer day. He did not need to look to know Thaddeus’ was glaring bitterly at him. “You feelin’ the need to say something?”

“You. . .” Thaddeus’ voice broke, and he coughed.

Kicking at an egg-sized white rock in the grass, Gabriel threw an arm across the seat of his saddle, squinting up, “well?”

“You are fuckin' stealin’ from the dead."

Digging a twist of tobacco from his pocket, Gabriel cut a chunk and began chewing it methodically.

“It puts you right in line with ‘em lousy, fuckin' Jayhawkers.”

Balancing the Sharps, still loaded with holsters, across Artorius’ neck, Gabriel swung up into his saddle, spinning the gelding toward the distant, shadowed tree line. Before going far, he reined in and spat. The wind stealing the glob, carrying it away just the same as it did the intense anger of his tone as he hollered, “You fuckin’ comin’ or not?!”

Letting his irritation get the best of him, Gabriel slammed his heels down, and Artorius took off like a shot. Cain was alongside in a few beats, and without looking, Gabriel urged Artorius into a flat out run.

Under the trees, Cavaliers shied clear, ducking the dirt clods flung their way when the pair of racers were reined to a skidding halt. “Who wants one?” Gabriel shouted, extending the rifle loaded with holsters.

“Hey, Captain.” 

Gabriel looked to Clyde Massey, sitting with one leg swung across the neck of his flashy black and white paint gelding. “If’n you ain’t wantin’ that Sharps, I will take it.”

Riding closer, Gabriel passed him the rifle, “All yours, along with the chore of passin’ out the extras.”

Clyde’s agreeable toothy smile took over his long face, “Thanks, Capt’.”

Out of habit, Gabriel replied, “ _De rein,_ ” handing a haversack to Clyde’s cousin JT, sitting next to him. Kneeing Artorius, he moved amongst the Cavaliers, passing out haversacks while noting who was banged up, yet, more importantly, that there were no empty saddles.

“Pssst, Gabe.”

Gabriel’s smile finally broke free, and he aimed his horse for a wide-shouldered man sitting, some distance from the others, on a long-legged bay gelding with full white stockings. “Damn, but I was hopin’ you were all right.”

A smile full of devilment split across Brody’s face, “That so, pal? Well, ya certainly were not makin’ it too fuckin’ obvious.”

Gabriel responded with a chuckle, saying, “ah, Brody, you been feelin’ all scared on your itty bitty lonesome? Need _moi_ to hold your hand?”

“ _Feu de l'enfer_ , cease bein’ a _crétin_ and pass me ya damn flask.”

Grinning with sheer happiness, Gabriel dug inside his jacket.

Broderick Johnson, whom everyone knew to _only_ call Brody, was the son of Marlow Johnson, owner of Marlow’s Magnificent, Marvelous Mercantile. A jocular, forthright, life-loving man, known across the counties for his illustrious stories. Depending on the mood a person caught Marlow in, he would extol the most profitable or most expensive accouterment of his mercantile was his children. By the time Brody and Gabriel became close friends, the year the twins were born, Marlow was on his second wife and his sixteenth living child.

Amongst so many, Brody’s only uniqueness was his arrival made the children of the Johnson clan an even dozen. As Johnsons continued to steadily arrive, Harrisonville residents liked to joke it would not be long before Marlow had a second dozen.

The botherment was despite his charming friendliness, Marlow was not necessarily a good father. Still, he was by no means a terrible one either. He just tended to allow his progeniture, as he called them, to speak as they wished while unreservedly sampling the world about them. Therefore, as they were called behind closed doors, Marlow's Misfits had garnered a variety of unflattering labels such as riotous, wayward, and impertinent. Overall, they were considered one’s worthy of keeping an eye on whenever they were near.

So, when Gabriel brought Brody to Sienna, his arrival was not appreciated by any other than Gabriel, who would not be deterred from his new pal. Primarily, Brody’s honest way of speaking also had a way of skipping right past pleasantries and diving straight into deep water conversations. It was the very way; the pair had discovered they each, recently, had become motherless, were both born in June, and were mostly ignored by their fathers.

As that first summer passed into years, Mams came to chide and care for Brody no different than she did any of the other children at Sienna, even eating at the same table when he was present. Of course, it is hard to say if she did this because of how often he was there, or if it was because Gabriel had somewhere along the way to decide the wayward, lonely, merchant’s son was to be his _frère._

Producing the flask, Gabriel handed it over, nodding his chin toward the Cavaliers' far side. “You see that?”

Brody’s odd mirror-colored eyes switched beyond to the familiar-looking big gray horse as he took a long pull of the flask. Abruptly, it hit him that the animal looked an awful lot like Cain, and he spluttered out the whiskey. “Is that Squirt?”

“ _Oui.”_

“He ain’t supposed to leave Sienna,” Brody responded, wiping his chin, with the back of his hand.

Sucking his eyetooth, Gabrielle answered, “well, we sure as hell have all told ‘em that.”

“Then what the fuckin’ hell is he doin’ here?”

“He will not say.”

“Won’t, huh?” Brody squinted at the other men, unable to make them all out. “Who is the Lieutenant of the group he came in with?” Yet, even as he asked, he kneed his horse forward, his face reddening until the scar below his right eye almost pulsated.

Gabriel followed alongside.

“That McGreen,” Brody snarled.

Gabriel nodded, not a single ounce of emotion showing in his hardened face.

Spitting, Brody gathered his reins.

Reaching over, Gabriel grabbed his hand, “ _non, Frère.”_

“Why not?”

Eying the ground between them, Gabriel calmly, if a bit coldly, said, “Rance is not only a damn fine fighter, he has the experience, and therefore I will not have you tearin’ em to shreds in front of the others.”

“But…” Brody’s eyes shifted to Thaddeus, who Fox Northrup was currently jabbering at.

“But nothing, and Brody, you do realize there is blood leakin’ from your boot?”

“Yeah, I know.” Brody’s wide, sloppy smile returned. “Why ya think I wanted ya flask? I already drained mine.”

Digging a bottle from his saddlebag, Gabriel traded it for his empty flask, “We should get you to a Doc.”

“Peculiar is closer than Harrisonville, figure on-goin' over there.”

“Then, I will escort you.”

Brody shook his head, “Nope; ya need to escort Squirt’s ass home, afore something happens to ‘em.”

Sucking in his lips, Gabriel inhaled deep through his nose.

Guzzling from the bottle, Brody lowered it with a snide laugh. “Swear, _Frère;_ ya set ya mind to it, ya fret better than an old man in a rockin’ chair.”

Gabriel’s face scrunched, and he flipped Brody his middle finger.

Smiling, Brody promptly replied, “right back at ya.” Taking another drink of the rye, he set the bottle on his saddle horn. “Naw, ya deal with Squirt. I have Common and Gid ridin’ over with me.”

“All right, but I want you swingin’ by Sienna on the way home.”

Both Brody’s brows rose until they neared his hairline, “ya orderin’ me ‘bout, Capt’.”

“Why would I? Damn well know you do not follow orders any better than a barn cat.”

A snorting giggle filled the space between them, with Brody’s cheeks rounding up like apples.

“But Mams hears you been hurt, and she ain’t been allowed to fuss over you.” Gabriel cocked his brow at Brody, “you and I both know how that will play out.”

“Suppose we do,” Brody answered, taking another drink that brought the bottle down to more than half empty. “Ya see them Jayhawkers sent a pair off for backup when they had us all fuckin’ pinned down.”

Astonishment filled with a touch of guilt flooded Gabriel’s face, “I did not. _Merci_ for lettin’ _moi_ know _.”_

“Not a problem.” Brody took another drink, listing a bit in his saddle.

“You best slow down, or they will need to tie you on Rex to get you to Peculiar.”

“Suppose ya right,” Brody replied, stoppering the bottle and shoving it in his saddlebag. “Come on, let us find, Gid, before this damn pain tries to make me piss myself again.”

When they were well within the circle of Cavaliers, Gabriel raised his voice. “I been informed the lovely Jays sent for help, so I reckon there will be soldiers here soon enough. Y’all know what to do, cover your tracks, get your alibis in place, and we will meet at Creek Fork below Independence in eight days.”

A mixture of grumbles moved through the group. Still, the Cavaliers understood their surest survival was to disperse, allowing them to defend their homes another day; and to do so quickly.

Gabriel called, “McGreen, hold up,” riding over and sticking out his hand.

Rance looked from Gabriel’s large hand to Brody, who looked peeved enough for both of them and then took hold of the offered hand.

When he did, Gabriel squeezed down savagely, “Your Unit saved our hides, and I want to say _merci beaucoup._ ” His eyes flicked pointedly to the left.

Rance’s gray eyes followed the movement to where Thaddeus sat limp in his saddle alongside Fox Northrup, and a chill ran down his back.

“You are a damn _bonne_ lieutenant, McGreen. I like the way you watch over your men and seem to have a knack for makin’ difficulties disappear. Still, let me make this fuckin’ clear, I best not ever see _m_ _' petite frère…_ that is my little brother if’n you do not recognize the phrase…not ever see ‘em ridin’ with you Unit.”

Rance’s eyes pinched, his mouth puckering into a small frown.

“Do we got a problem?”

Through clenched teeth, Rance replied, “We do not, Capt’.”

Throwing Rance’s hand back at him, Gabriel took up his reins, and raising his voice, for all to hear, " _Merci,_ for your Units timely arrival.”

Not noticing the animosity hanging between the pair, Fox rode over, “Hey, Gabe, ya can show your thankfulness by buyin’ us all drinks at the Dipper.”

Turning a dark frown on the boy, he knew to be Thaddeus’ closest pal and none too pleased to see him here, either, Gabriel snarled, “Get yourself home, Clarence.”

Fox smiled broader, “I was plannin’ to, Capt’.”

“Now, Fox.”

Unperturbed Fox, hollered, “Hey, Tad, cannot say how good it is knowin’ ya were not dead.” He pulled on his horse’s rein enough to get the animal to rear. “See ya eight days, pal.”

Gabriel threw each of them a when daisy’s bloom in hell look as Fox spun his horse, leaping into the woods with four others following him.

Their leaving set all the others in motion, abandoning the battleground with their victory yelps lingering on the air above the crashing of tree limbs.

“You sure you do not want Taddy and I to ride with you?” Gabriel asked Brody.

“Not this time _Frère._ ” Brody grinned at Thaddeus, “although, I sure would like to be in on chewin’ ya ass.” He jabbed his index finger at Thaddeus, “How fuckin’ brainless can ya be, Squirt?”

Thaddeus looked, ostensibly, away, ignoring Brody.

Gideon Barnett nodded toward the battlefield, “Look at that.”

A solid sheet of rain was advancing across the prairie, and they stared in awe at its steady freight train approach.

Spitting a stream of tobacco juice, Common Smith tugged his hat lower, “fixin’ to get damn wet,” and he turned his horse into the woods with Brody and Common following.

Moving in the opposite direction, Gabriel looked to the pattering beginning on canopy overhead, “Fuckin’ perfect, bet it rains to flood the damn ditches.”


	67. Chapter SIXTY-FOUR

Chapter Sixty-Four

Hours of bushwhacking through low, hanging limbs brought Gabriel and Thaddeus to a muddy, wagon trace winding along under a gray sky.

“Big Creek ain’t too far from here; we will be able to follow it most of the way home,” Gabriel said, standing in his stirrups and stretching. “ _Par Dieu,_ it feels damn fine to be free of those trees.” Plopping back in the saddle, he kicked his feet from the stirrups, rolling his ankles. “What you reckon Marie has on the stove to eat?” Not hearing a reply, he looked at Thaddeus hunkered down, deep inside his duster.

Digging out his tobacco, Gabriel cut a fresh piece off and circled Artorius back, pulling in alongside his brother. As he chewed the chaw plug down, he blatantly studied Thaddeus’ sullen face. “How is that lump behind your ear?”

"It hurts."

"And your neck?"

"Sore as hell."

"And your nose?"

"Been better."

Gabriel nodded, spat, and did a little more stretching before carefully saying, "You need to understand. I was not _necessarily_ lootin’ the dead.”

There was no sign of hearing from Thaddeus.

“ _Zut,_ we all do it.”

This time, Thaddeus snorted and then moaned, feeling tenderly of his broken nose.

Gabriel spit again, "I ain’t saying that makes it right.”

Thaddeus frowned darkly at his brother.

“ _Jésus pleura_ , Taddy, gives me a chance.”

Plucking a green leaf from Cain’s headstall, he twirled it, twice, before letting it float away while considering, ‘how can I judge Gabe? I was the _malheureux imbécile_ who deemed ridin’ patrol was a fuckin' adventure.’

“The way of it is. . .” Gabriel haltingly began, his face pinching, “ _qu’elle_ I mean is the way we all see it is, why should we allow _une_ article them yellow bastards can use ‘gainst us to return across the border?”

Thaddeus muttered, “I done figured all that out already.”

“So, why are we havin' a problem?”

“We are not.”

“ _Bonne_!” Gabriel nodded, spitting and shaking himself like a wet dog. “‘Cause, we do need supplies to keep up the fight.”

Sulkily Thaddeus replied, “I already said, I done figured all that out.”

“That so?” Gabriel asked, feeling rubbed a bit raw. “Then did you also figure out that we ain't doin’ this for excitement and adventure?”

Thaddeus did not reply.

“Or _qu’elle?_ Did you feel the part of the hero today?”

Thaddeus flicked his duster collar up.

Gabriel’s square face bunched, “Oh, you just goin’ to ignore _moi?_ ”

If possible, Thaddeus sank deeper into his duster.

“Well, I do not need you to talk with.” Gabriel grumped, but after an unbroken hour of silence, he stuck the toe of his boot in the soft of Cain’s belly, and the stallion humped, skittering sideways with a squeal.

Slouched down, half-asleep in his saddle as he was, Thaddeus’ only saving grace was Peter’s training. Otherwise, he would have been picking himself up out of the mud. Gigging Cain with his heels and reining him around at the same time, he snarled, “fuckin’ knock that _merde_ off, Gabe!”

Gabriel’s laughter sounded like rolling thunder, “Oh, you do still have a voice?”

There was a fury riding with Thaddeus that could be felt, and most would have stepped off, giving him room. But not, Gabriel.

He knew Thaddeus was a tough one; that was no dispute, just not tough enough to worry him. Admittedly, he felt that way about both his brothers. When they were younger, he would goad them as a diversion solely because they could be entertaining as a terrier after a rat when he got them good and stoked. That is until, one day, Peter quietly said, ‘your younger brothers carry around the same damn pocket full of rage as you. So, rather than pokin’ em until they blow, how ‘bout you start learnin’ em on how to be the masters of their foul tempers. Do you not realize they look up to you? Course you keep on as you are, they will not much longer. Be your choice.’

Not wanting them to turn away, he had ceased provoking them, most days, and when they were riled, turned their anger elsewhere, using it to teach them lessons, he felt their father never took the time to.

“So, you goin’ speak with _moi,_ now?”

“Why?!”

“‘Cause, I want answers from you.”

Pulling his smoke makings from inside his vest, Thaddeus started to open them. Paused to glower at the steady rain, still coming down, and shoved them away.

“You informed _moi_ you sussed this war all out, so I take it you, also, understand we ain’t out here doin’ this as a fuckin’ frivolity.”

Just barely, Thaddeus nodded.

“Course, I figure you up and followed Rance out, even when we told you not too, ‘cause you thought it would be excitin’, and your pals were doin’ it, so why the fuck not. Might have even thought, the _filles_ would see you as heroic.”

Thaddeus' shoulders drooped.

“Am I right?”

No reply came, only the sound of the rain and the horses walking in the mud.

“I ain’t askin’ you again, _Petit._ ” Gabriel said, reining in close, “you either answer _moi,_ or I am knockin’ you off that _cheval,_ and you can walk rest the way home.”

Thaddeus shot a hateful look at Gabriel.

“As Peter always told us, ‘be your choice.’”

“Fine! You are right.”

“Then you tell _moi, Petit Frère;_ how many men did you savor killin’ for such lame reasons?”

Becoming rigid in his saddle, Thaddeus’ face shifted to straight out anger.

Gabriel smiled.

“Why the fuck are you smilin’?”

“‘Cause I been waitin’ on your temper to show up. You pay better attention when you are pissed. I want you to understand, to fully understand, ain’t none of this some heroic jaunt. They hit us, and we hit back. It is a damn war, and war is blood and death, not a jaunt out with pals. So, Taddy, how many?”

Thaddeus looked away.

“ _Deux_? _Trois_?”

Thaddeus shifted, his wet saddle squeaking beneath him.

“ _Quatre_? _Par Dieu,_ answer _moi,_ Squirt!”

‘Why? Why does he want to know?’ Thaddeus thought, shaking his head, sending water spraying, ‘ain’t it enough I know that . . . that burn in _m’_ gut changed _moi_ into a mankiller?’ Reaching into his shirt, he took hold of the silver crucifix.

To stifle his grin, Gabriel bit the inside of his lip, thinking, ‘Squirt skips prayers, every chance he gets, cusses like Lucifer, drinks whiskey like water, and when he gets upset-- first thing he reaches for is that cross.’

Moving Artorius over, Gabriel clamped his hand about his brother’s that was cupping the crucifix, “ _Bonne,_ you do grasp what you have done. And Taddy, I do not need to know how many. But you do.” Gabriel looked up, “in the end; it is between you and him.”

Thaddeus looked up too, sniffed hard, and then over at his brother, the green of his eyes blurry behind his unshed tears.

“Go on and let ‘em run; it will clear your mind. But Taddy, you must understand when you were on that battlefield, you did what needed to be done.” Saying this, Gabriel squeezed his brother’s hand hard enough the cross jabbed his palm, making him flinch. “You hear me? It was what had to be done, if’n you had done _une_ damn thing differently, then you and those ridin’ with you would be the ones rottin’ in that fuckin' field.” Releasing him, Gabriel chucked him under the chin. “You did _bonne, Frère._ ”

Thaddeus looked over, his tears mixing with the rain.

“You understand _moi_?”

Water poured from Thaddeus' hat brim when he nodded.

“ _Bonne_. Then let us pick up the pace, see if’n we can outdistance this damn rain.”

More than an hour later, the rain was still with them, and Thaddeus shivered hard enough; Cain looked back at him. Glaring at his horse, he thought, ‘ _Feu de l'enfer_ , I feel half-drowned, and every damn time Gabe spits, _m’_ cravin’ for a smoke about crawls out and chokes _moi_.’ Spying Mill Creek Bridge on the horizon, Thaddeus spirits rose. “Hey, Gabe, can we take a breather under the bridge?”

Gabriel turned Artorius so fast; mud spun out in all directions; as he opened his mouth to curse Thaddeus for hollering and possibly alerting others to their position, it came to him, ‘we ain’t on the border; we are only a few miles from home.’ Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath, scanning the trees, ‘damnation, the more time I spend out here, the harder it gets to lay it all down.’

Thaddeus weakly smiled, riding up alongside his brother, “Come on, Gabe, can we?”

“Hell, why not? I would not mind steppin' down. 'Sides, we need to look each other over as Father’s told me it is unacceptable to return home tattooed in blood. Not that I am thinkin’ this rain has left any on us.”

At the mention of Father, Thaddeus paled.

“He does not know where you are?” Gabriel began laughing and leaning out; he knocked Thaddeus across the back.

“Ow! Ah, fuck, Gabe. Ow!"

Gabriel laughed all the harder, “Land’s Sake, you ever think before leapin'?” Kneeing his horse into an easy trot, Gabriel hooted, “Whooweee, I will say, you sure make life gawd-awful interestin’ Taddy, I will say that for you.”


	68. Chapter SIXTY-FIVE

Chapter Sixty-Five

Sliding his aching body from the saddle, Thaddeus lead his tired horse into the damp dryness under Mill Creek bridge. Heaving a sigh, Cain shook himself so hard; he set his tack to flopping and jangling.

“Not much longer, we shall be home,” Thaddeus said, scratching the stallion under the girth strap he just loosened. “Yep, nice warm stall, some sweet mash, you will be feelin’ like your hell-raising self again.” Bending, he ran a thumb along the frayed breast collar, ‘damn, but if’n that bullet had not nicked this leather. . .’ he shook his head, not finishing the thought. Straightening, he patted the horse’s neck. “ _Mes apologies, Garçon._ ”

“All looks clear,” Gabriel said, leading Artorius in, and seeing Cain’s girth strap hanging loose, he frowned. “Hey, I do not want you loosenin' your saddle when your off-property anymores.”

Thaddeus glanced at Cain before scrunching his face at his brother, “Why?”

“You never know when you might require a speedy exit; a loose girth might mean your death,” Gabriel answered, pulling the strap tight and tying its tail off. “You got _moi_?”

“Yeah,” Thaddeus mumbled while dumping tobacco onto a cigarette paper.

“Taddy?”

“Keep _m’_ cinch tight, I heard you.” Thaddeus snapped, focusing on rolling his quirley, and when he placed it between his lips, a flame flared up golden before his face. Smiling, he leaned into the light Gabriel provided, sucking until the paper crackled, rippling red. Leaning back, he exhaled a cloud of silvery-blue smoke with a sigh.

“You oughta take up chaw.”

“I do not like chaw; it is a fuckin’ nasty.”

With a grunt, Gabriel shoved him, sending him stumbling into Artorius, the muscled red-shifted, snorting at both of them.

Leaning against the big red, Thaddeus shifted the quirley to the corner of his mouth, took off his hat, and spun it through the air, hooking it on his saddle horn.

With a shake of his head, Gabriel wandered off wearing a twisted, bemused grin.

After arching his back, Thaddeus set to scrubbing at his thick black hair until it stood at wild angles. Then he cautiously felt of the lump behind his right ear, his eyes squinching up as he probed it. By this time, his smoke was nearly gone. So, he rolled a second, and swapping them out; he found Gabriel stretched out on the upper bank.

Smiling, he flopped down next to his brother, tucking an arm behind his head, crossing a foot over his bent knee. Taking a long drag, he blew the smoke out through his nostrils in a double stream. Then, noticing he was being stared at, he yelped, “ _Qu’elle_?”

Gabriel was wearing the twisted bemused smile again, “Damnation, if’n you do not look like you are kicked back under Sienna’s cottonwoods.”

Thaddeus’ brows lowered.

“Do not worry about it.” Gabriel shrugged, pulling his hat over his face, mumbling, “ _v_ _raiment,_ I pray, you stay just as you are now, _toujours, m’ Petit Frère_.”

Sitting up, Thaddeus stared at his brother and finishing his smoke; he ground the used up quirley beneath his heel and settled back into the musty earth.

Enjoying the lulling sounds of the pattering rain and rolling river, Gabriel thought, ‘feels like years since I just laid back and breathed. I deem I shall remain home, for a bit, after the next meetin’.’ Then a question came to him, “Taddy?”

“Hmm,” was the half-asleep reply.

'That plain ain’t fair,’ Gabriel thought, sitting up. ‘Ain’t a soul should be able to fall asleep so fast.’ Thumping his little brother on the chest, he asked, “Since; Father does not _know_ where you are, did you run off from Sienna or someplace else?”

The corners of Thaddeus' mouth dipped down.

“Well?”

“Harrisonville,” he answered, fingering the cut on his neck. “I met up with Rance and the rest of ‘em at the Lil' Dipper.”

Rolling to his feet, Gabriel strolled to the waterline, muttering, “fuckin’ McGreen.” For a time, he watched the foam swirling by on the coffee-colored water. Glancing back, he wondered if his brother were asleep again. “You know, a part of _moi_ actually thought you were listenin' to us when we all said you were too young for this fight. Hell, if’n not Father and _moi_ , then I would figure you would at least listen to Lafe.” Turning from the water, he found Thaddeus sitting cross-legged and watching him. “Why did you disregard _all_ of ‘n us? Why could you not just stay home? _Qu’elle_ did they all poke at your pride?”

Anger tinged with shame shot through Thaddeus, and he leapt to his feet, “You ain’t ever home yourself, Gabriel Crowe. So, who are you to fuckin’ lecture ‘bout remaining there?”

Gabriel’s right hand became a fist, and he took a step toward his brother; then, with a snort, he looked away, uncurling his fingers, “ _Zut_ , Squirt, why you always gotta be pushin' _moi_?” Rubbing at his right arm, he walked to the far side of the bridge and cricking his head side to side; he filled the tight space under the bridge with snaps and cracks.

Watching his brother, Thaddeus fingered the cut on his neck again, and releasing a tired sigh, said, “I did not want ‘em to speak of _moi_ like they do Lafe.”

Feeling more tired than he could recall, Gabriel removed his hat, popping it against his leg. "Taddy, I understand _qu’elle_ you are sayin’ but . . .” He turned to face his brother, “do you understand why I did not and do not want you out there?”

Thaddeus nodded.

“In the future, will you, _s'il vous plaît,_ remain home?”

Thaddeus nodded again.

" _Qu’elle_?"

Pushing his bangs from his face, Thaddeus solemnly said, " _Oui,_ I will stay home."

“ _Bonne.”_ Gabriel half-heartedly smiled, “ _Bonne._ Rain looks to be liftin’, let us ride for I am desirin’ a cup of hot coffee ‘bout as bad as you wanted a smoke.”

Less than a mile from home, the birds began to sing, and the sunlight peeking through the low hanging clouds, setting all the wetness to rainbows and sparkles.

“Damnright temptin’ to spook that beast of yours.” Gabriel casually said as Thaddeus rode with one leg thrown across his saddle horn, balancing his cigarette wrappers and papers to roll quirleys, which he placed one by one in a tin for later use.

A line of sweat pricked along Thaddeus’ back, and he flicked his eyes to his brother, “Gabe, _Gran Frère, --"_

Gabriel’s laugh interrupted him, “Oh, I ain’t goin’ to, temptin’ as it is.”

Still, Thaddeus set to packing his gear and getting his self right in his saddle. Which caused Gabriel to laugh all the harder, “ye of little faith.”

Sticking his feet, snug down in both stirrups, Thaddeus shrugged with a crooked, chipped tooth grin.

“You thought any on Father waitin’ there at home to tear into you.”

Thaddeus frowned through his smoke.

Steering Artorius nearer, Gabriel made sure he had Thaddeus’ eye, “He ain’t goin’ lay a fuckin’ hand on you. I _promesse_ you that.”

Thaddeus nodded, but there was fear clinging to the shadows of his face.

“Taddy, he will not touch you.” Gabriel nodded, “he will not.”

Thaddeus nodded back, the fear less vibrant but still there.

“Although, I suspect he has figured out a long sermon to torture you with.”

“You think?”

“Damn right, Father has placed a wagonload of hope in you.”  
“Why?”

“You ain’t that obtuse. You rightly know, Lafe and I do not want to spend our days breedin’ and trainin’ _chevals_.”

“Well, I do.”

“All of’n us know that, so, when you feel the need to cuss the old man. . .” Gabriel winked at his brother, “you just choke yourself on it, if’n you have to, ‘cause you did bring it _all_ down on yourself.”

As he was saying this, they paused before Sienna’s arched gate. Looking up, Gabriel smiled poignantly. “Yep, this place will be yours, and it should be because you _amour_ it. Strangely enough, you, the _fils_ he ignored most, is now the _une_ he is betting on.” He looked over at Thaddeus, whose mouth was hanging ajar. Gabriel looked down and back to his brother with a tight smile, “Hell, it is the reason he gets so pissed when you fuck up. He has a lot ridin’ on you.”

“ _Qu’elle_ ‘bout you and Lafe?”

“Ah, who the hell knows _qu’elle_ Lafe will do, but it will not be raisin’ _chevals._ You know that as well as I do, and _moi…_ Brody and I discussed it, pair of’n us would rather oversee those you send out on the race circuit. Traveling the towns, racetracks, upscale hotels, fancy ladies, plush poker room,” he nodded, “yep, that will suit _moi_ just fine.”

Thaddeus’ brows furrowed deeper as he again studied the filigree arch that read ‘Sienna’ over the iron gate.

“Come on; I want a couple of cups of coffee to warm _m’_ bones.”

Urging Cain after Artorius, they easy trotted down Sienna’s long, white chat drive, the evening sun creating slanting golden sunbeam ladders to heaven and coming around the final curve, Gabriel said, “Will you look at that?”

Behind the big house arched a double rainbow as Patches raced toward them, barking and howling his happiness.

The brothers traded a smile and trotted the rest of the way up the drive. When they climbed from their saddles, Thaddeus said, “Gabe, I am of a mind, I do not care if’n I ever leave Sienna again.”

"I think that is a _bonne_ way to be _Petit Frère,_ a damn _bonne_ way _._ "

“ _Mon garçons,_ " Simone called, coming down the front steps as fast as she could manage. “ _Mon sucré, sucré garçons. Oh, m’garçons, m’garçons._ ” Shaking with tears bright on her face, she pulled the pair of them into her arms. “We all been beside ourselves with worry, just beside ourselves,” she said, in between kissing each of them, as Patches jumped about their legs, licking their hands.

Strolling down the steps, Antonio rolled his cigar to one side of his mouth to say, “It is damn fine to have y’all home.”

There was a warmth wrapped around the words that startled Thaddeus. Breaking free of Simone, he eyed his father thinking, ‘ _Par Dieu_ , he looks ten, _non,_ fifteen years older.’ Before he could consider further on this, Patches' yodeling barks distracted him, and kneeling; he roughed up the dog until its tail was wagging so fast, it spun in circles.

“Leave that _chien_ be and come inside," Simone fussed, pulling at them. "I will have hot baths and food prepared for y’all in _non_ time at all.”

“We will,” Gabriel answered, tilting his head to the horses.

“Let some stable slave deal with ‘em.”

“First off, we ain’t got none of those anymores, and sides Mams, I cannot.” Gabriel replied, “it is the law of the stable: horses afore men.” As he quoted what had been drilled into him, he heard Thaddeus’ saying it in perfect harmony with him.

“Leave ‘em to do as they should, Simone.” Antonio drawled “Gives you more time to hustle the others around.”

Simone kissed them each once more and was hollering for Marie and George before she was even through the front door.

Antonio watched her go and returned a solemn gaze to Thaddeus, taking in his son’s worn-down appearance, the swollen slice on his neck, along with his discolored, lumpy nose and black eyes. ‘Well, my boy, what have you seen and done?’ As he thought this, it came to him, the green eyes staring back were those of a man. Antonio nodded, his mouth feeling dry. ‘Appears, he left the boy behind wherever it was he went.’ Pulling the cigar from his mouth, he threw it on the gravel drive. Hesitating, he breathed out and then grabbed them both, drawing them to him. “Y’all had me troubled something fierce; I am so pleased to have you both home.”

Once he released them, they shifted, scuffing rocks beneath their boots, even after Gabriel said, “ _Merci,_ Father, it is grand to be home.”

“I had lost hope of ever seeing either of you,” Antonio said, smiling and spontaneously hugging them again, a laugh of relief rolling from him this time. “Word has traveled ‘round that a group of Missouri boys got themselves killed over in Vernon. All of us old men have been prayin’; it was not our sons.” He breathed deep, “and here are mine.” He stroked the side of Thaddeus' face, his eyes trailing again to the jagged cut on his throat. “I do not know how you managed it, Gabe. But I thank you for bringin’ your younger brother back.”

“Hellfire, Father, he found _moi_. I know he does not look like it, now..." Gabriel grinned at Thaddeus, who looked ready to drop from exhaustion, "... but he is most likely the reason I am still breathin’.”

Antonio’s eyes tracked once more between his sons, and he broke into a rich, hearty laugh, “Either way, praise God for answering my prayers.”


	69. Chapter SIXTY-SIX

Chapter Sixty-Six

Coming in from the back patio, Thaddeus kicked the kitchen door shut with his bare foot and dropped an armload of dirty laundry in a ladder-back chair before tossing his hat onto the table. From the other side of the kitchen door, he could hear cheerful voices and laughter. Running his hands through his clean, wet hair in an attempt to tame it, he thought, ‘I will get Peter to lop some of this off tomorrow.’ Then picking up his weapons, boots, and pocket goods, he pushed through the swinging door into the dining room.

Simone pointed to his seat at the table, where a heaping plate of pork steaks and fried potatoes covered in gravy with a hefty side of greens and cornbread sat cooling. “Startin' to think you might have drowned out in that bathhouse.”

“Naw, the hot water just felt _bonne,_ ” Thaddeus answered, storing his gear on a step of the central staircase, before coming to the table. When he slid into his chair, all eyes turned his way, and flashing them his crooked grin; he stabbed a forkful of potatoes.

Humming, _Lakes of Pontchartrain_ , Simone circled the table, refilling glasses as she passed Gabriel; he slung an arm about her waist. “ _Qu’elle_ has you so pleased?”

“I be joyful merciful the _Dieu_ , answered _m’_ prayers,” she said, slipping away with his empty plate.

“Taddy, why did you tell me you was goin’ for supplies when you was _vraiment_ meetin’ up with Gabe to go huntin'?”

Thaddeus stopped mid-chew to stare across the table at his twin. ‘Am I supposed to keep up this lie?’ He thought, ‘I do not lie to Dora.’ Trying to decide, he picked up his glass, buying himself consideration time.

“ _Fille_ , leave ‘em be; he ain’t required to tell you everything,” Gabriel scolded, hurling a meaningful look Thaddeus’ way along with a solid kick in the leg.

Jerking his leg out of Gabriel’s range, Thaddeus eyed him over the rim of his glass, and ever so slightly, saw Gabriel shake his head.

Having drunk all his milk, Thaddeus frowned, gritting his teeth, unable to bring himself to out and out lie to his twin.

“Squirt!”

“I ain’t, Gabe,” he flatly replied, shoving his chair back and wiping his mouth. “Hey, Dora, I plumb forgot.” He grinned, “I got you something in town.”

She yipped, “You did?” Twisting in her chair to watch him as he rummaged through his belongings on the staircase.

Coming back, wearing a blushing grin, he reached over her shoulder, placing a damp, blue, velvet box on the table. “I hope you like it.”

Peeking at him from the corner of her eye, she pried the lid open, and her mouth fell into a perfect O. “You spent the money you was savin' for a rifle.”

He shrugged with one shoulder; a corner of his mouth raised in a smile.

Nibbling at her lower lip, she stroked what lay in the box with her index finger and whispered, “Thaddeus Robert, _merci beaucoup._ ” 

He froze, his eyes widening as his mind shouted at him, ‘she is here!'

Taking the necklace from the box, she slid from her chair to stand before him.

He licked his lips, 'she is right here in front of all of 'em.’ Almost scared to breathe, he peered into her eyes, softly saying, “Hello, Eudora Lorraine.”

“It is _belle._ ” She responded, holding up his gift, so the silver hearts reflected in their matching green eyes.

“ _Monsieur_ Willer said, you were taken by it… and I know why.”

She smiled, and the room held its breath, for it was not her childish toothy grin, but the radiant, stunning smile of a young girl perched on the brink of adulthood. " _Oui_ , it is us," she answered, touching the heart, so it broke apart into two. “They are connected like us, always without end.” Kissing his cheek, she turned so he could clasp it about her neck. “I shall never take it off, and when you are far away, you will be with _moi_.” She fingered the hearts, “and, when you are married with your own _famille_ , you will still be with _moi_.” Spinning, she hugged him close, “cease frettin’; you ol’ worrier, we are connected forever.”

Someone moved, their chair scraping beneath them, the harsh sound filling the still room.

Eudora jumped, her eyes darting to her staring family, and a strange look crawled across her face. Biting her lower lip, she glanced to Thaddeus, and then the child’s grin was back, and she was racing up the staircase.

At the slam of her bedroom door, Thaddeus collapsed in her chair, and with a sigh, replaced the lid onto the blue box spinning it out into the center of the table.

Gabriel was the first to find his tongue, and he hollered, “ _Grace de Dieu,_ I always figured you were trumpin' up the truth all these years!” He scratched his head, looking up to the second floor. “Well, hot damn, there is another side to her?”

Prideful joy flowed from Thaddeus, and without saying a word, he pulled his plate across the table and returned to eating.

“Ain’t you gonna say anything, Mister Taddy?” Marie asked.

“Just wish the others had been here to see it.” He answered, looking around at his family. “I done told y’all, time and again, and none of ‘n you had any faith in _moi_.” Setting his fork down, he plucked up Eudora’s glass of milk, and raising it in a toast, drank it dry.

After dinner, the men adjourned to the study, and easing into one of the leather chairs facing the desk, Thaddeus crossed an ankle over his knee. He had barely got settled when he thought, ‘it is stuffy in here,’ frowning at the low-banked fire. He stood, striding to the French doors, and swinging them open, he breathed deep of the wet spring air. Hearing a sound, he spun, his hand snatching for his Remington. Except, it was lying with his boots and pocket goods on the staircase; he swallowed, releasing a sickly smile.

Antonio said, not a word of rebuke, although his mustached dipped to match his frown.

Accepting the tumbler of bourbon his father had brought him, Thaddeus read the deep lines of exhaustion in the older man’s face and felt miserable. "Father, _mes apologies_ for the way I abandoned _m' devoirs_. It will _not_ happen again, this I swear.”

Before returning to his desk, Antonio patted his youngest son’s shoulder. “It pleases me to hear you say so, Tad.” Taking a seat behind his desk, Antonio looked long at each of his sons and, clearing his throat, said, “This past week, durin’ y’alls absence, it came to me how very defenseless Sienna is.”

Having retaken his seat, Thaddeus leaned forward, “Father, I will not--.”

Antonio silenced him with a wave of his hand. “I take you at your word, Tad. However, it is more than all that.” Rolling a cigar between his fingertips, Antonio gazed at the fading embers in the fireplace. “Last time I was in Independence, I heard that God, himself, oversaw the incursions being made into Missouri, and the man proclaiming this swore it was true as he had heard it straight from Senator Lane's mouth. Ever since, if’n there is a lull in my day, these and other distressing statements, clamor inside my head.”

Resting his arms on the desk’s smooth cherry wood surface, he sighed. “I have no doubt, despite the valiant efforts of State guard patrols, the ruinous marauding will become much worse before our Federal government deems us worthy of assistance. I also fear the sort of men they will send, for the papers have labeled, we, Missourians as cloddish, feebleminded, slaveocratic pukes.” He rubbed at his face, sighing heavier, “However, can such descriptions encourage honorable men to aid us?”

The brothers slanted their eyes toward one another; without a word, Gabriel stood and retrieved the bottle from the sideboard, refilling their glasses.

Antonio waited until Gabriel was finished, then said, “Tomorrow I would like you to set ‘bout hirin’ ten or more riders, men you trust, who can aid us in movin’ the herd to Independence.”

Thaddeus sat forward so quickly; he sloshed his bourbon, “movin’ the herd?”

"Yes,” Antonio smiled sadly at his youngest, “I have decided to ship them all to _L’Eau Sucrée.”_

Thaddeus leapt from his chair, "In _Louisiane_?"

"That is where it was located, last I heard.”

"But Father, why?"

“I have spent my life creating the Sienna Stable line. Our horses are the future of this family, and I will not have it stolen by thieves.” Antonio replied. “Therefore, in the mornin’, you, Web, and Peter will gather the entire herd into the corrals.”

“We have over a hundred head spread out across Sienna.”

“Hundred and twenty-eight are what you informed me, before your excursion.”

Guilt raced across Thaddeus’ face.

“I hope by sending them South. . .” Antonio's words trailed off, and he took a drink. “No, what I mean to say is I pray sendin’ them South will be enough to protect our home. Tad, you need to understand I am tryin’ to save Sienna.”

The Stark’s barn crashing to the ground in a burst of roaring, hissing flames filled Thaddeus' mind, and his legs felt weak. Noticing the glass still in his hand, he upended it, swallowing all the bourbon in one gulp.

“I am sorry, Son,” Antonio said, shifting his eyes to see how Gabriel was taking his decision and thought, ‘he looks more at ease than I have seen ‘em in a good while.’

Looking him straight back in the eye, Gabriel nodded subtly, “I will gather the men as I wholly concur with you.”

“Thank you, Gabe,” Antonio replied, relief rushing through him; he sighed, shifting his gaze to the darkness beyond the study windows, considering the evils that lay beyond their fence lines. “You both have quite a day before you tomorrow.” His eyes turned back to his sons. “I will see y’all at breakfast.”

Nodding and leaving their empty glasses on the sideboard, they filed from the study, mulling through their thoughts.


	70. Chapter SIXTY-SEVEN

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Passing Thaddeus’ room, but hearing his brother still behind him, Gabriel asked, “ _Qu’elle_ do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Can it wait ‘til mornin’?” Gabriel asked, shoving his bedroom door open; he turned, “Can it?”

Thaddeus shook his head, his dark brows bunched in a tight arch that created a line-upon-line of deep creases in his forehead.

Gabriel grunted, “fine,” motioning Thaddeus into his room.

Passing his brother, Thaddeus headed straight for the over-sized reading chair, only to find it piled with clothes. Frowning at the mess, he laid his gear on the floor beside the chair. “Why ain’t these put away?”

Sitting on the edge of his unmade bed, pulling off his right boot, Gabriel looked over and then grunted, “Cause I told ’em all to stay the hell out of _m’ chambre.”_

“Why would you do that?”

“I ain’t in the fuckin’ mood to be questioned. _Qu’elle_ do you want _?”_

Lighting the wick of the dresser lamp, Thaddeus looked about for the hurricane globe. “Uh, Gabe?”

“I broke it a few months ago; it would have been the third or fourth _une_ , too.” Gabriel replied, “I suppose Mams is done having 'em replaced.” Dropping his second boot to the floor, he threw an irritated look to his brother. “Once I get down to my drawers, your time is up; you best be gettin’ to _qu’elle_ you need to say.”

Gabriel began peeling out of his clothes while watching his brother pace the length of his room and back. His eyes narrowed, and he started to bark at him but got caught by a yawn that kept on until he felt like his jaw would pop apart.

Scratching the back of his head, he yawned a second time, thinking, ‘damn, but I am tired and surprised to be here. Thought today was _m’_ last, ain’t ever felt relief like I did when Rance’s Unit charged onto the field. Man alive, they showed them Kansans whatfor.” Yawning longer, Gabriel semi straightened his bed and, crossing his arms over his bare chest, said. “Enough already, Squirt, you are wearin' the cussed rug out.”

Coming to a halt, Thaddeus scrunched down into a ball against the floorboard.

“Oh, hell, _non_! Do not be settlin' yourself in.” Gabriel grumbled. “I am tired...” he waved at his bed, “I want to go to sleep.”

Thaddeus braced his forehead against his upraised arms, staring at the floor between his knees, and his shoulders began to shake convulsively.

Exhaling slowly, Gabriel drug a hand down his face, his eyes flicking to the sliding doors separating his room from Lafayette’s thinking, ‘been nice havin’ the twins to _mon_ self, but right about now, I could use Lafe’s slick doublespeak.’ Then with a grunt, he plopped down next to Thaddeus, wrapping an arm about him, fully expecting his brother to jerk away. Instead, he collapsed into him with long shudders rippling through his small, muscled body.

Leaning his head back against the wall, Gabriel held Thaddeus, telling himself, ‘Appears despite his tough act, there is still some gentleness left in him.’ Resting his chin on top of his little brother’s head, he inhaled the clean scent of cedar soap and smiled sadly, 'He should _not_ have been there.'

As the shuddering faded, Thaddeus sunk deeper into Gabriel, like a pup that had played itself out.

Patting him on the back, Gabriel asked, “Taddy, what is causin' your sufferin'?” His only answer was a more solid silence than before. “Do not be closin' the door on _moi_.”

“That last man I killed; I see 'em every time I close _m’_ eyes. It was his blood all over _moi._ I shot 'em in the face, and it just gushed down on _moi._ " Thaddeus sat up, wiping a hand across his lips. " _Feu de l'enfer,_ Gabe, it even got in _m’_ mouth. And… and...” He shuddered, “I was under ‘em, trapped, and I could see right inside his head?” Thaddeus peered over at his brother with glassy, red, swollen eyes.

Gabriel nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“I keep tellin' _mon_ self they deserved to die. They burned the Stark's place, butchered George and his boys, and who knows what the fuck else. I keep tellin' myself, ‘you should be fuckin’ glad you killed 'em.’ Then I see this _garçon_ , I tripped over, and he is starin' at me with his dead blue eyes.” He gulped, sniffing hard, “and it makes _moi_ feel so damn guilty. But, Gabe, _qu’elle,_ if’n they come here?” Thaddeus' legs shot out, and he leaned back into the wall. “Fuck! I did not know it would be like this.”

“ _Petit Frère_ , I loathe _qu’elle_ you have seen and that you are now a part of all this." Gabriel rubbed Thaddeus' shoulder, saying soft but firmly, “fire and brimstone, if’n only you had stayed home as you were told.” He felt his brother stiffen, and even quieter, he said, “I have been tryin' to set this in your head all day, but this time, Thaddeus Robert, I need you to pay full attention for once, to listen real close. Are you?"

Thaddeus’ mouth went dry, and he nodded the barest bit.

"From this point on, you break the hell off lookin' back at what has happened. You keep up examinin' the past like you been, and it will eat your soul away, leavin' you an empty, tormented husk. When the hard times come, you do what you have to when you have to; then, you put it behind you.” Gabriel stood, “I do _amour_ you, Taddy. Unfortunately, that is about the only worthwhile advice; I can give you.” He offered his hand to Thaddeus.

Taking it, Thaddeus let himself be pulled up. “Does puttin' it behind you work?”

Gabriel laughed coldly, “When I can do it. Why do you think I drink so much? Still, what I have learned is this... live each day. Thinking of the past or the future, either _une_ will get you knotted up. Truthfully, the more I focus on the day I am on, the less drink I need to stay level. Furthermore, Father is correct. We damn-well need to get the blooded stock out of here. Doing so will take a worry off _m’_ list.”

Retrieving his belongings, Thaddeus mumbled, “ _mes excuses_ for breakin’ down.”

“You needed the release," Gabriel answered. Reaching out with a long arm, he snagged Thaddeus in a hug, "And Taddy, you break down on _moi_ any time you need.”

“ _Feu de l'enfer,_ I ain’t plannin' on makin’ _non_ habit of it.”

“I know you will not.” Gabriel yawned, heading toward his bed. “This all will, sadly, harden you up right quick. Night, Squirt.”

Picking up Lafayette's rifle from where he had laid it with his gear, Thaddeus frowned, looking from it to his holsters, “Suppose you are right, _bonne nuit, Gran Frère._ ”

" _Bonne_ sleep to you, _Frère."_


	71. Chapter SIXTY-EIGHT

Chapter Sixty-Eight

**Thursday 14 th June 1860**

From his spot on the Southern Hotel's expansive porch, Antonio could make out a swelling, building, golden dust cloud. “You are positive; it is my herd?”

A boy whose face gleamed as red as his hair stood in the dirt below the porch, and in a gasping rush, answered, “They were more than a mile out when I spied 'em, Mr. Crowe. Then this couple of riders, they came along, and I asked 'em, and they tolds me they spoke with a couple of the ramrodders, and they said, they were comin’ from Sienna.” 

“Job well done, Josh,” Antonio replied, flipping a heavy silver coin to the boy.

“Ya need anything else, Mister Crowe, ya remember I be ready.”

“I will, Josh, run on now,” Antonio answered, moving for the hotel’s front stairs.

It had been roughly a month since Antonio informed his sons the horses were to be transported South. For most of those days, he had been right here in Independence, making travel arrangements and exchanging telegraphs with Lafayette as he set up for their arrival on his end.

Strolling along the bustling walks of Independence down to the riverfront stockyards, Antonio exhaled long and low. All the same, there was still a tight burning in his chest, and pausing by the river, he watched the bouncing, muddy whitecaps. A tangle of limbs floated by, tossing and diving in the rushing river, and he thought, ‘Missouri is a known killer, and she is a babe compared to ol’ Mississippi,’ Smoothing his long mustache, ‘so much potential for mishap. Still, they most go South, it is the only sure way to protect our line, along with my children’s futures, and I owe them that.’ Laying a hand to his burning chest, he looked to the sky, ‘I am tryin’ to make amends Gena, it ain’t easy, but I am tryin’.'

As he stood there, a weathered, wide-shouldered man walked up, his calculating blue eyes surveying the taller man who was buried in his thoughts. Standing a pace off, he coughed, drawing attention to himself.

Antonio turned, and, recognizing the man, he smiled. “Good Day, Captain Kinney.” Packing away his thoughts and the emotions that went with them, he shook Kinney’s hand. “The moment is upon us.”

Captain Kinney rubbed a calloused hand along his closely, shorn, white beard. “Saw ye be coming down the walk, and came up to see if ye be wanting to inspect the flatboats? Me boys, have them fully prepared for your lovelies?”

“I have unwaverin’ faith in your preparations,” Antonio replied, meaning every word for Captain Randolph Kinney was considered one of the best Captains on the river throughway and not the sort to allow obstacles to stand between him and fulfilling a commission.

“You send word when, and I be having me, boys, on their feet. I am eager to get these big tubs you had built on their way.”

"They are big, ain’t they?”

“We shall be tellin’ them steam beauties to pull their wheels aside for us.”

A rumble reverberated from the canyon corridors, the good-sized buildings of Independence had created, and Kinney hitched his hands in his pockets, “be sounding like me shipment is arriving.”

Antonio nodded but had an overall greenish look to him.

“All will be well, Mr. Crowe, I have never lost me a shipment, and I will not be smudging by tally-card now.”

Antonio smiled over at the man replying before striding off toward the stockyards. “I am sure it will be as you say, and, again, Captain Kinney, I do thank you."

With his bearing and tall frame, he was able to move easily through those gathering to be a part of the day’s excitement and had nearly made it to his destination when his horses rounded the corner. They were moving at a fast clip with their tails flagged, and on hearing a sigh of appreciation sift through the crowd, Antonio’s nervousness was shoved aside by his pride.

Acknowledging a yard employee, he climbed a ladder to the catwalk that spanned over the wide assortment of corrals. Below him, the horses trailed by, and from his perch, Antonio hollered hellos to the men who had moved, even more importantly guarded, Sienna’s stock along thirty-odd miles of land that was raided so often that a peaceful day left its inhabitants stunned. As he called their names, he laughed inwardly at how it sounded like a registry of Western Missouri's who’s who: Erikson, Younger, McGreen, James, Barnett, Johnson, Miller, Long, Todd, Riggs, Sawyer, Jarrette, Seabourne, Smith, Gamble, Hays, Locke, Poole, Minter, LaSalle, Northrup, Reed, Massey, and Taylor.

'I informed Gabriel the trip required, at least, ten men.' He thought, marveling at the steady flow of riders. 'I see both siblings and cousins from the many families; appears no one wished to be left out.' He hollered to a few more, thinking, ‘suppose this will be a happening men will talk over for a time to come.’

“Hey, Father!” Gabriel shouted, pulling his hat and waving it jubilantly, spinning Jericho to a halt directly under Antonio. “Not a single injury to stock or man. _Qu’elle_ would you have wagered on them odds?” 

“It is not a bet I would have taken.”

“Me neither,” Gabriel replied, stepping from his saddle.

“Excellent work, Gabe, excellent,” Antonio said, pausing on his way down the ladder, scanning the area until he spotted Cain. “Did your brother ride drag the whole way?”

“Yup and, I tried to convince ‘em otherwise.” Gabriel shook his head, “turned mule-headed on _moi._ Said, he wanted to ascertain none were left behind."

“That sounds rather insultin’ to those assistin’ us."

" _Oui_ , except, Taddy, covered it by gushin’ on, ‘bout how he was too damn proud to put anyone of’ em in the hellish position of drag when they were all here out of friendship." As Gabriel spoke, his droopy, brown eyes drifted to where Thaddeus had become the center hub to a tight group of men; and even from here, their amiable laughter could be heard.

Hopping to the ground, Antonio said, “He sure has a way with people.” 

“That he does.” Gabriel sighed, “ _Mon_ self, I have to work to gain a man’s confidence, and despite what everyone says, ‘bout folks swarmin’ to Lafe like honeybees. It ain’t true, not a damn bit. He has to win 'em over, just as I do, difference is Lafe makes it look easy. Not Taddy…" Gabriel shook his head with a laugh. "that _garçon_ smiles, and damn it to hell if’n folks do not adore 'em for it, and then clamor to be his _ami_.”

Antonio stared fixedly at Thaddeus for a moment, “Well then, I suppose we should be proud and, even, mighty glad he is on our side.”

Gabriel slyly smiled, “that we should.”

“Let us leave 'em in charge. I would like you to accompany me to see Captain Kinney. He asked me if’n I wanted to inspect the boats. I told ‘em I did not need to, but I would like to see his plans for loadin’ and get your opinion.”

“Fine, let me hand Jericho off to Brody and, I will be back directly.”

Watching Gabriel weave through the men, Antonio yawned heartily; these past few nights, he had slept little, his mind fault checking every step of transporting the horses South.

“Are you the owner of this herd?”

Caught in a personal moment, Antonio started, then with a frown, he stood straighter, glaring down on the slim, dark-haired man attired in an immaculate blue uniform topped by a black hat set at a cocky angle brandishing a large, exotic, blue feather.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?” Antonio snapped back in a tone that was less than friendly. 

“The owner of these horses?”

A wrinkle appeared in Antonio’s nose, and he replied, “I am.”

"Then you are exactly the man I want,” removing his fringed gloves and tucking them in his beltline; the man extended his hand. “I am Major Samuel Birmingham of the Missouri Home Guard.”

Antonio inwardly recoiled as Birmingham’s Unit was widely known for their overtly violent methods of so-called peacekeeping. Forcing out a tight smile, he took the Major’s hand, giving it a quick, firm shake, wishing the moment he let it go, he could wipe his palm clean.

“And your name, Sir?”

“Antonio Crowe.”

Birmingham nodded, “Crowe? That name rings familiar. What county do you hale from?”

“Why is it you want to know?”

At the growled question, Samuel Birmingham spun to face Gabriel. “Now, you, Sir…” his beady eyes narrowed, a smarmy smile spreading across his face, “I trust, we have met before."

Settling back into his heels, Gabriel hitched his thumbs on his holster belt.

Birmingham scanned the heavily armed riders chatting near the stockyard fence. "I would say many of us have met before.” Malice showed hot in his eyes when they returned to Gabriel, “Would you not say?” 

Curling his lip to suck at his eyetooth, Gabriel softly replied, “ _Non,_ not at all, you must be mistaken.” He held out his hand, “ _noms_ Gabriel Crowe.”

On taking Gabriel’s hand, Birmingham flinched, and understanding what his son was up to, Antonio placed a hand on his shoulder, calmly saying, “It was good meetin’ you, Sir. However, we have business to deal with.”

Pulling his hand free, Birmingham slipped it behind his back, flexing feeling into it.

With a wink, Gabriel said, “perhaps we all will bump into each other another time.”

Putting pressure on his son’s shoulder, Antonio turned him for the boardwalk leading to the docks, “We have a rather lot of business to address, if’n you will excuse us.”

Ignoring his words, Birmingham said, “I want to purchase a number of these animals for my Unit as they look to be of superb quality.”

“Mr. Birmingham--”

With the sharpness of broken ice, Birmingham snapped, “It is Major, Sir, Major Birmingham.”

“Yes, well, Major Birmingham, you have a good eye.” Antonio answered dryly, “before you are the finest equines, you will see anywhere. There are a few that are for sale. Although, the majority are headed for our family stables down South.”

“Then I want to procure those _few_ before the South lays claim to the rest,” Birmingham replied with a feral grin.

Taking a breath to ward off the cold chill he felt, Antonio said, “to have the military riding our stock would be a great honor, albeit I fear the price of, even, one is prohibitive for a paymaster’s approval. It is a keen shame, as pencil pushers shall never fathom the needs of a cavalryman.”

“Still, I want them shown to me,” Birmingham said, turning back to the paddocks. “Let us begin with that large gray by the gate?”

Without looking, Antonio knew he meant Cain and smiled, “You have a fine eye. That is my youngest son’s mount.”

“He has the bearing of a leader’s horse. How much will you take for ’em?”

“Major, perhaps, I did not make myself clear. The gray is my son’s horse.”

“Have him bring the animal here; I need no one’s approval for the purchase.”

Antonio frowned, slanting an eye to Gabriel, who was tapping a finger on the brass butt strap of his Colt.

Puffing up like a tom turkey, Birmingham snarled, “Call him up here.” 

Not wanting trouble, which he was certain Gabriel was preparing to dish out, Antonio released a sharp whistle.


	72. Chapter SIXTY-NINE

Chapter Sixty-Nine

At the whistle, Thaddeus spun about.

“Bring Cain up here.”

Untying Cain, he led him through his circle of pals, and laughter rolled from them as they jostled, shifting clear of the stallion.

At the laughter, Birmingham stiffened up like a stepped-on cat.

Seeing him do so, Antonio stroked his salt and pepper mustache, thinking, ‘seems he believes the amusement is regarding him.’ He glanced to Gabriel, whose eyes were locked on Birmingham. ‘Men of small dignity make the worst enemies. I sure hope we can get out of this without damage.’

“Hey, did Gabe tell you. . .” Thaddeus called, except his attention was drawn to the small officer, openly admiring Cain. His green eyes flicked from the man to his brother, who, with the slightest motion, shook his head.

“Tad, this is Major Samuel Birmingham of the Missouri Home Guard.”  
Thaddeus’ fingers tightened about the leather rein he held.

Keeping his voice level while maintaining eye contact with his youngest, Antonio fervently wished he had better communication with the boy. “He is of a mind to purchase horses and is most interested in Cain.”

Thaddeus brows swooped together, his nostrils flaring

“Gabriel and I need to see to other business; I leave negotiations to you.”

“Father?”

Hastily, Gabriel spoke first, “ _manipulez-le, ne lui vendez pas._ _ **[1]**_”

Birmingham shot a suspicious glare at Gabriel that circled to by to land on Antonio, and he coldly asked, “you Son is not setting some trap to double-cross me?”

A magnificent smile flooded Thaddeus’ face, and in an obnoxiously loud, lazy, twangy tone that caught everyone’s attention, he drawled, “not at all, not at all, ya come ‘long with _moi_ , Major Sir.”

Birmingham’s face bunched in a scowl.

“If’n ya wanna talk horses, then ya best come ‘long with _moi_.”

Birmingham turned sharply to Antonio, his fancy feather bobbing with the abruptness of his move.

Antonio raised a brow, jabbing a thumb toward Thaddeus, who was already walking back to the pens.

With an agitated grunt, Birmingham trotted after him, and to get Thaddeus to slow; he called out, “That gray is one of the finest horses I have ever laid eyes on.”

Thaddeus pulled up, turning with a grin that could beat the moon, “Major Sir, I ain’t too smart, anyones here will agree with that, but Major Sir, ya do not ever commence a parlay by out and out sayin’ what ya want.”

“Parlay?” Birmingham dug out his wallet. “I do not want to barter; here, I will give you two hundred for him, right now.”

Thaddeus draped an arm about Birmingham’s shoulders with a snorting laugh, every inch of the blue wool uniform he touched smearing with dirt. “Cain, here, is a beast. Ya, ask anyones. He likes _moi_ , all right enough, I suppose, ‘cause he ain’t never attacked _moi_. Its t‘would be wrong…no…no it t‘would be evil of _moi_ to sell ‘em to ya.”

Scowling at his dirtied uniform, Birmingham twisted out from under Thaddeus’ arm and stepped up to Cain, running a hand down the stallion’s glossy neck. “He is magnificent. I will give you three.”

A wicked glint brightened Thaddeus’ eye, and he loosened his grip on the rein. “Major Sir, I cannot sell this horse to ya.”

Before Birmingham could respond, Cain’s lips pulled back, and he had hold of the Major’s jacket, and with a brutish shake, knocked the man to the ground.

“Good Glory, Major Sir, let _moi_ help ya up?” Thaddeus yelped. With a fool’s smile plastered across his face, he jerked Birmingham to his feet, commencing to enthusiastically beat road dirt from the blue uniform with his leather gloves. “Apologies, Major Sir, but Cain he does not take to just anyone layin’ a hand on 'em. I done told 'em and told 'em, ‘he is a horse and needs to be more polite, but as ya see, he does not listen none.” Rattling on at full speed, Thaddeus propelled the man toward the corrals. “Right down here, Major Sir, we will finds ya a right-smart, mannered horse.”

Birmingham eyed Thaddeus, ‘how did I let myself be turned over to this simpleton, half-wit boy?’

Just as he thought this, Thaddeus pounded him across the back, so hard, he slammed into the tall corral fence. “Wait, right here, Major Sir, and I will have a few roped in for ya.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Birmingham leaned his back to the fence and found himself surrounded by the same men he had been eyeing earlier.

Having asked Web to rope in a couple of horses, Thaddeus returned to Birmingham’s side, chuckling over the way the very air surrounding the man was vibrating with sullen rage. Then with another gum showing, lopsided smile, he draped his arm over the man’s shoulders, cackling, “Whooeee, Major Sir, lookee how everyone draws near to hear ya every word. Ya must be a memorable fella, Major Sir.”

Birmingham shifted, concern his building, ‘I should not have done this without a few of my men.’ Swallowing hard, he considered his sidearm in its buttoned-down cavalry holster, thinking, ‘certainly, none of them would be so asinine as to do me injury, right here on the street.’ His eyes slid back to Thaddeus, still hanging on him, and he was startled to find bright green eyes shrewdly studying him. Tilting his head the slightest bit, Birmingham thought, ‘is he a fool, or playing me as one?’

Releasing a braying laugh, Thaddeus said, “Goodness, but do ya think Cain done damaged the Major Sir? He ain’t opened his mouth since Cain threw 'em in the dirt.” Slapping the man repeatedly on the back, he shouted in his ear. "Ya hear _moi_ all right, Major Sir? Ya ain't damaged, is ya?"

"I am not damaged!” Birmingham shouted, pulling away. “Lay off handling me so!”

Falling back, slamming up against Brody, Thaddeus winked at Cole Younger and George Todd, who were staring at him as if he had lost his mind and pushing off Brody, he cajoled, in that long, drawn-out drawl he was using. “Why Major Sir, I did not know I was handlin’ ya. I was being friendly. We is friends, ain’t we.” Thaddeus pleaded, offering his hand, “I know, let us shake, and we can be friends again.”

‘He is simple.’ Birmingham decided, ‘I will explain to Antonio Crowe how grievous it was to have me treated thus, and then he will sell me horses at _exactly_ the price I set.’ Turning to leave, he found himself encircled by hard-faced men, and sweat rolled down his back. ‘Perhaps, for now,” Birmingham thought, “it would be best to play along.’ Taking Thaddeus’ hand, he said, “You are correct; we are friends, Mr. Crowe.”

“Aw, shucks, Major Sir, Mr. Crowe be my Pa, I am just Tad.” As he said this, Thaddeus pumped the man’s arm up-and-down like he was trying to prime an unused well. “Major Sir, ya never did tell _moi_ if'n ya were famous or not.”

“I am somewhat known,” Birmingham replied, pulling free and straightening his uniform after all of Thaddeus’ glad-handing.

“Well, then ya must meet my pals.” Thaddeus waved to the men who were aiding his family, passing a wink to Clyde Massey and Frank James. “See, they is _also_ _somewhat_ known.” Dragging Birmingham after him, Thaddeus lined him up, so each son of Missouri could shake his hand.

By the time they had, he was disheveled and his right arm about useless. Worse than the abusive greetings he was forced to endure, Birmingham knew he was facing men whose names were on warrants. However, not one of them had divulged a surname, so he still did not know them from Adam.

Walking up with three horses, Webster laid a heavy hand on Thaddeus’ shoulder, pulling him away from the officer, “here they be.”

Birmingham genuinely smiled at the over-sized black man, thinking, ‘Ho! Ho! These Crowe’s are slave-owners, and their futures belong to me as I will have no difficulty rousting up a group willing to visit their slave-holding plantation.’

“These three be right-mannered horses, do they fancy ya, Major Sir?”

“They are quite fine animals. Go on and have your slave move them about smartly.”

Thaddeus’ face became a mask of anger, touched with pain. “Why, Major Sir, we do not own a slave. Not even one. This here is Webster." Crossing his arms, Thaddeus leaned against the big man. "Web, here, has been my life-long friend. Only person owns Web is Web.” Thaddeus mournfully shook his head, “I gotta say, Major Sir, it is plain hurtful the way ya threw 'em in shackles without heedin’ his feelings. I would say ya oughta apologize, Major Sir.”

Birmingham's mouth popped open like he had bit into a hot pepper as he thought, ‘this half-wit clod cannot be expecting me to bow and scrape to a piddling buck negro?'

Thaddeus tilted his head, his hand dropping to the Remington nestled at his belly.

Swallowing hard, Birmingham mumbled, "Mr. Web, no harm intended."

"Never thought there was _Monsieur,_ " Webster replied courteously, and jabbing a thumb in Thaddeus’ back, he whispered, " _Vous_ break off foolin' with this Home Guard afore he up and bites a chunk outs of _vous_."

With a snorting giggle and a roll of his eyes, Thaddeus dropped his put-on act altogether, "Ah, Web, you are _toujours_ frettin’ too damn much."

Handing Thaddeus, the whiskey-colored gelding’s lead, Web answered, "With you about, someone has got to _._ ”

Seeing Thaddeus’ change, Birmingham’s face paled, shifting to granite stone, and stepping up to tear into this boy who had been playing him the fool, he froze when the gelding began reacting to Thaddeus’ requests. By the time the last horse was back in Webster’s hands, Birmingham had forgotten his anger. Then, rubbing his hands together, he eagerly said, “I will take all three.” 

“If’n that is so,” Thaddeus said, in a flat business-like manner, “then let _moi_ explain a bit about these _trois._ ”

With a frown, Birmingham nodded for Thaddeus to go on.

“Vashti Red is nine-years-old, she works smoothly in four gaits, and leaves others in her dust on a quarter-mile track, only she ain’t much of a distance racer. Vashti has borne only _une_ foal as she does not take well to breeding.” Thaddeus patted the mare, “too _mal_ , on account of her size and coloring. Erebos Wind here is a grandson of our Grand Champion, Boreas Red, ‘cepting we had to geld Erebos. Way too much curly wolf in 'em as a stallion, still he has heart and damnation, but he can run. Hell, he has been first across the line in twenty races thus far. You can readily check his track record. Lastly, you have a four-year-old stallion. We only started selling stallions of late. This boy we call Gus, he tends to act a bit…” Thaddeus released the gum showing smile, he had been using earlier “…half-witted, and Gus seems to fit better than his papered name, Blood of Midas. His strongest damn quality is… he sure-footed on rough ground, even when moving fast. He ain’t been on a track, but I was thinkin’ of havin’ him run at Metairie this spring.”

Birmingham held tight of the thick wallet in his hand, his face, now, alight with interested joy.

Using Gus as a leaning post, Thaddeus scratched the horse's jawbone, “So, Major, we got a track-proven gelding, a solid mare who _can_ still be bred, and young stallion waiting to prove himself; I figure, I could let you have all three for thirty-nine hundred.”

Birmingham’s eyes bulged like Thaddeus had kicked him where it counted, “Three-thousand-nine-hundred! You are indeed a simpleton. I should be speaking to someone else!"

Thaddeus' nostrils flared, and shoving himself off Gus; he stepped directly into Birmingham’s face. “These ain’t damn plug ponies. They are prime racers with Arabian blood flowin’ in their veins. You fuckin’ force yourself on us, demandin’ to purchase _m’ chevals,_ then you insult _moi_ when they do not match your thin wallet _._ I would say you have proven who the simpleton is.”

Under Thaddeus’ explosion, Birmingham kept taking steps backward until his progress was halted by bumping into Orville Riggs. With a start, Birmingham spun and then leapt back, bumping into Thaddeus. Then with a quick inhalation, he stepped aside, regathering himself. “Perhaps, I shall stop by your plantation to pick up a few later.”

“There ain’t _non_ fuckin’ more there,” Thaddeus shouted, stepping closer to the man, “we got us a notion some un-lawful _bâtards_ might had been plannin’ to take a few home.”

Birmingham’s face became ugly.

Thaddeus’ face was just as twisted, his voice rising to match the blood he could hear pounding in his ears. “ _Jésus a pleuré_ , why the fuck, do you think we are goin’ through the fuckin’ difficulty of shippin’ ‘em all down South? ‘Course anyone who would choose Jayhawkers over his own kind, well…” Thaddeus snatched a handful of the blue wool drawing back his fist.

Walking back and hearing his brother’s cursing, Gabriel had broken into a run, and as Thaddeus drew his fist back, he shouted, “TADDY! _Non!_ ”

Thaddeus shot a vicious look toward Gabriel, still retaining his tight hold of Birmingham.

[1] Handle him, do not sell to him


	73. Chapter SEVENTY

Chapter Seventy

Gabriel bellowed, “Thaddeus Robert!!!”

Thaddeus slowly brought his flaming eyes up to his brother.

Birmingham squirmed, grappling at Thaddeus’ hand clenching tight of his jacket front.

A growl rose from Thaddeus, rage rolling from him like steam after a summer rain.

“Mr. Knowles is here for Stoirm,” Gabriel said, his tone controlled and firm. “Why not go on and bring ‘er out for ‘em.”

Thaddeus’ nose wrinkled.

Briskly Gabriel shook his head, “ _Notre famille paiera si vous faites._ _ **[1]**_”

With an abrupt guttural snarl, Thaddeus shoved Birmingham from him.

Falling back, Birmingham clawed at the flap of his holster, unsnapping the stiff leather.

At the rolling clack of revolver hammers, Birmingham froze, and then slower than winter, thaw his eyes scrolled across the barrels encircling him. Still, hot with anger, he turned his gaze to Thaddeus and was astonished to see the man he believed a slave restraining Thaddeus.

Then in a rich deep baritone, so soft and genteel, it did not match the arcing tension, Webster said, “ _Monsieur,_ it would be best if’n you took your leave.”

Straightening his clothing, Birmingham spat in dirt, adjusted his hat, and walked firmly away as if he had organized the whole event.

“Let _moi_ fuckin’ go!”

Webster held tighter to the squirming bundle of fury in his arms. “You goin leave that shooter in its holster, Taddy.”

Thaddeus struggled, uselessly, against Webster’s thick arms.

“ _Merci,_ Web, go on and release ‘em,” Gabriel chuckled, saying, “cause you are goin’ to behave! Ain’t you, Squirt?”

Thaddeus’ eyes burned like reflective spots in a fire.

“Ain’t ya?”

“Yeah!”

Webster unfolded his arms and scowling at him, Thaddeus retrieved his hat from the dirt, stomping to the corral, and sideling through the fence rails.

Jackson called after him, “Might need this.”

Taking the lariat Jackson was extending, Thaddeus weaved through the multi-colored herd, slipping the rope about Stoirm’s neck. When he came through the gate, he saw his father and Mr. Knowles, a full-bellied man, well past forty, sporting a thick gold watch chain across the vest of his tailored dark blue suit, were waiting a short distance away.

Glancing to them, Gabriel growled, “ _Zut,_ Taddy, that ain’t _qu’elle_ I meant when I told you to handle ‘em.”

“You told _moi_ not to sell to him, and I did not.”

“But startin’ a _melee_ with an officer of the Home Guard, ain’t _qu’elle_ I had in mind neither.”

Mr. Knowles interrupted the brothers by calling out, "How is my girl, Tad?”

Brushing past his brother, Thaddeus answered, "I would bet, she would say, pleased to be here.”

“I will talk more on this with you later, Squirt.”

Thaddeus thought to snap back, but one look at the dark expression decorating his elder brother’s face changed his mind right quick. “Mr. Knowles, we all would have ridden in last night if’n it was not for Stoirm. I thought for sure; she was considerin’ droppin’ her foal out on the trail.” He stroked the mare dotingly. “So, yesterday, I made the others start pacin’ her, rather than the other way around.”

“She looks in perfect health, thank you, Tad.” Mr. Knowles replied, fitting a leather halter on the dark bay mare. “I am still surprised you,” he looked to Antonio, “decided to sell her. Especially since she was cleanin’ up tracks in Chicago last year.”

“You very much expressed your interest both when she went North and when she came home.”

“That I did.” Mr. Knowles said, straightening her forelock with a grin that dropped years off his mature face. “What of the Sire?”

Antonio jabbed a thumb at Thaddeus, who promptly replied, “The foal is from Demetrius." Turning, he pointed to a compact, muscled horse. "He is that rye-colored bay with the black mane over near the far corner.”

“Right decent looking animal.”

Thaddeus nodded, flicking an eye to his father; he laid a protective hand across Stoirm’s back. “I chose Demetrius, ‘cause there are times he gets me to thinkin’ he is part billy goat.”

His description caught Knowles' attention so that he was staring with open curiosity.

“Got a notion to start a new line.” Thaddeus' hand left dusty lines along Stoirm’s back as he stroked her. “Rest of the _famille_ deems _m’_ strategy is ridiculous.”

Antonio hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets, not saying a word.

“ _Mon_ line would be pacers who could climb, so I bred our most sure-footed mares to Demetrious and Hannibal, as those two stallions can climb anything they are aimed at.” He finally looked back to Mr. Knowles, “So, if’n you would, let _moi_ know how your foal does, once it is old enough to carry a rider.” 

Mr. Knowles extended his hand to Thaddeus.

“ _Non,_ Sir,” Thaddeus looked down at the trail dust wedged in every crevice of his clothing and his filthy hands. “I will dirty you.”

“And I do not care.” Mr. Knowles replied, offering his hand more. “And, Tad, I hope my foal is a climber. I deem what you are strivin’ for sounds like excellent qualities.”

Thaddeus’ mouth twisted, and he shook his hand, “ _merci._ ”

With a nod, Knowles then laid his hand on his mare’s back, covering the streaks Thaddeus had made there. “I regret this mare is one you had chosen, and I thank you for selling her to me.”

Taking a step back, the corners of Thaddeus' mouth lifted into a false smile, “just treat ‘er _bonne . . ._ good, will ya?”

“I will, have no fear.” With a nod, Knowles switched his attention to Antonio. “You sure you do not want me to place the funds in your account?”

Antonio laughed, “So, it can stay in your bank?”

“Is always a banker’s first priority.”

“I would, but I have need of it elsewheres.”

Thomas Knowles pulled a thick, paper-wrapped bundle from the inside pocket of his suit coat, “Goes a bit against my principals regarding money, but Antonio, you positive this amount is enough?”

“Tom, we have done plenty of business over the years, and you have always been of great assistance. The least I could do is give you two for the price of one.” Taking the packet, Antonio secured it in his suit, “Here are her papers. Now would you like me to get one of the boys to deliver her to your stable?”

“No, I do believe I will enjoy walkin’ Gaoithe Stoirm home myself.” Mr. Knowles replied, and nodding toward Thaddeus, “Once more, I apologize she was one of your mares, but good luck with all your plans.”

Flashing a bashful smile, Thaddeus wandered back down to the men who had driven the horses to Independence, “suppose we ought to spot y’all to a bath, dinner, and saloon.”

George Todd replied, “Yes, y’all should, but not sure about your order.”

Fox Northrup stepped out with a cat licking cream smile, “Tad, you up and forgot to add women into that list.”

Dropping an arm across Brody’s shoulders, Gabriel leaned on his pal, saying, “That all sounds right fine.” His smile spread out, "but, I am here to spoil the show for y’all.”

The men turned heated faces to Gabriel.

Brody’s eyes widened at the irritation he saw aimed at him, and shrugging Gabriel off, he blurted, “He ain’t with me.”

“I do loathe shatterin’ all y'all plans, but we got more to do." He nodded back toward where his father still stood, chatting with Banker Knowles. "We are loading straightaway."

A groan drifted from the men.

With a half shrug, Gabriel said, “ain’t _m’_ fault.” He nodded to Thaddeus, “blame that _une._ ”

The dark expressions shifted to Thaddeus.

“And, while you are at it, blame it on yourselves, too. Y’all allowed ‘em to be jawin’ and pokin’ at Birmingham like he was.” Pulling off his hat, Gabriel scanned the town beyond the stockyard and riverfront with the slow steadiness of a predator. “I expect Federals down here to tree us all afore the hours up; seems the best course of action is to load these _chevals_ on the boats straightaway.”

Shoulders drooped, boots scuffed the dirt, a few hats were removed to scrub at wet, salty hair, and a collective sigh rolled from the weary men.

“But not to worry, Taddy had the right idea in as far as a bath, dinner, saloon…. and women.”

“You promisin’, Captain?” Common Smith asked.

“I am.” Popping his hat on his pant leg, Gabriel put it back on, bellowing, “Cole, Rance, Brody, Frank, y’all grab a few more and take point guard. Rest of y'all, get these damn _chevals_ on the boats, and I mean now!” 

Every man jack scurried to follow orders leaving Antonio standing, stuck somewhere between dumbfounded and amazed, in a swirl of dust.

[1] Our family will pay if you do


	74. Chapter SEVENTY-ONE

Chapter Seventy-One

**Tuesday 24 th of July 1860**

When the massive, wooden flatboats pushed away from the docks of Independence, the white-capped rushing water so thoroughly spooked Cain; his eyes rolled white with sweat darkening his silvery grey coat. His deviltry slipped away, and in those first days, he would only eat if Thaddeus were by his side. Although, that was weeks ago, and the stallion now stood unperturbed in line with the other horses. Their shifting hooves scraped hollowly on the deck, interweaving with the constant lapping of the water until the pair sounded as natural as a Morning Dove's warbling song at dawn.

Staring down the long flatboat, carrying half of Sienna's herd, Thaddeus laid a hand on Cain's rump, releasing an exaggerated sigh, "Still do not know how I ended up here, _Garçon_?" Removing a burnt matchstick from his hatband, he set it between his teeth and began scratching Cain's rump line. "How you doin' today?"

The horse softly nickered, swinging his hip closer.

"I am so damn tired of being on this boat," Thaddeus grumbled, crossing his arms on the horse's shoulder and burying his chin against them with another sigh. "Gabe vowed he was makin' this damn trip, and yet, here I fuckin' am."

Bending his neck, Cain nibbled at Thaddeus' shirt.

"Knock that off, _Garçon_. I know you are damn bored; so am I." He rested his cheek against his hands, closing his eyes. "Least Father said I could come home, but y'all _chevals_ will be at _L'Eau Sucrée._ " His nose wrinkled, "But Dora's at Sienna . . . I ain't ever been away from her this long." Shoving off with another sigh, he thumped his hand along Cain's ribs, "well, when I go back, I am takin' you with _moi._ Do not give a fuck _qu'elle_ anyone says _._ " Scratching the stallion once more, he wandered off to sit under the shade being cast by the box house in the center of the flatboat.

"Tad!?"

Stepping back out into the sunshine, Thaddeus looked to the house's roof to find Captain Kinney peering down like a king on a throne.

"You and me, Lad, will be walking on sand before the hours done."

Jerking the matchstick out of his mouth, Thaddeus shouted, " _Vraiment . . ._ really?"

Kinney nodded with a laugh, "you done traveled two great rivers, and I can see they did not win you over none."

Thaddeus shrugged with a lop-sided smile.

"Well, be for casting your mulligrubs off; you will be free soon enough."

Thaddeus' crooked, chip-toothed grin expanded into a full smile; the same one Gabriel claimed caused people to line up to be his pal.

Seeing it, Kinney laughed twice as loud. "Not all are meant for riding the river."

"I was meant for ridin' _chevals._ "

"And I the river. Go on and tell your mate."

" _Merci,_ " Thaddeus called, trotting to the boat's stern, still chewing on the matchstick. Beyond the double flowing ribbons of water spewing from his boat, he looked to the second flatboat, loaded with the rest of Sienna's herd. At last, his pal, Fox Northrup, stepped into view, and cupping his hands about his mouth, Thaddeus hollered, "Fox. Fox."

The redhead stepped up to the bow railing, waving across the stretch of water.

Thaddeus bellowed, "Capt' says we are almost to LaPlace."

"Thank the Lord. I am ready to be on land," Fox yelled back.

"See you soon, and drinks are on _moi_."

"Hope ya pockets are full, 'cause I am dad burn thirsty."

Thaddeus waved again, thinking, ' _moi_ also,' and strolled to the front of his boat, stopping here and there to speak to different horses.

Will Dubbs, a boatman who had taken Thaddeus under his wing, came over, "so you will be leaving us soon."

Thaddeus cheerfully replied, "That I am."

"It is too sad we are not unloading in New Orleans." Will shook his head, "It being the biggest port in the Americas; it sure is a sight to see."

"I am fine not seein' it, Will," Thaddeus answered, beaming at the heavily bearded man. "I am more ready than you will ever know to have dirt under _m'_ feet." Inhaling, he thought he tasted salt and took another deep sampling breath.

Seeing him do so, Will chuckled, "We are close to the Gulf. That is sea air rolling up the river."

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Thaddeus chuckled, "all I know is, that really does mean we are close."

"Want off that bad, do you?"

"I ain't able to find the proper words," Thaddeus grinned mischievously, "so, will fuck yeah, suffice?"

Will brayed loudly, and the horses nearest them bumped against one another, snorting.

"Come on; they are latchin' on to . . . well . . . _m'_ excitement," Thaddeus said, walking toward the bow to enjoy the wind blowing in his face. As he stood there thinking about having the biggest steak, he could order for dinner and an entire pitcher of beer, LaPlace came into view.

The town was nothing more than a riotous jumble of buildings spreading away from the Mississippi like a lady's hand fan, but Thaddeus thought it looked about as impressive as anything he had ever seen.

Pointing to the steaming tugboats leaving the docks, Will said, "here they come to pull us to shore." He patted Thaddeus on the back, "need to get back to work."

Thaddeus nodded, watching with interest as the boats harnessed themselves to the large flat tubs. When they turned back to shore, the ropes stretched out, snapping taut, and the fast-flowing water shifted, bucking and churning against the flatboat's high sides. More importantly, to Thaddeus, the blurred green ribbon that had run parallel to them since Independence slowed shifting into solid shapes as they approached.

"It be all in the hands of the tugs now," Captain Kinney said, coming to stand by Thaddeus.

"Never seen anything like it."

"I told ye, father, these flats loaded as they be, be unpredictably difficult to bring to shore. So, he arranged for these tugs to haul us in."

Thaddeus nodded, appreciating his father's foresight as he leaned against the railing, drinking in the approaching shore.

"This trip went smooth as China silk, and I be looking forward to iced ale and shellfish. How about you?" Kinney asked, his eyes crinkling heavily at the corners as he puffed on his pipe.

"I am looking forward to walkin' on land, havin' a slab of beef, and seein' _m'_ _famille_."

Laughing heartily, the Captain replied, "them last two be good things." He clapped Thaddeus' shoulder, "It has been a pleasure working for your family."

" _Merci,_ Captain Kinney, you run a _bonne_ operation."

Captain Kinney nodded, "Speak with you again once we be unloaded."

Thaddeus watched the man walk away before returning to tracking the shoreline. Spitting the matchstick out, the current snagged the tiny piece of wood, sucking it under. As it did, Thaddeus thought, 'First, secure the _chevals,_ get a bath, dinner, _bonne_ night's sleep. In the mornin', Fox and I can ride out for Lafe, hope he got men lined up to move the herd to _L'Eau Sucrée_. Get 'em settled and, _Jésus a pleuré_ _;_ I can finally head home.' Spotting a group of men near the stockyards, he chewed at the corner of his mouth, 'wonder if's they, also, are here to assist Fox and _moi_.'

Cain's sharp squeal cut through his thoughts, spinning; he saw the stallion's head was up with his nostrils flaring, and ears pricked toward shore. "I feel the same way," he muttered, scanning the herd's glossy backs, as those that could swung their noses toward land, and those who could not brutally pawed the deck. Feeling just as eager and unable to stand still any longer, he began pacing the barge.

Will fell into step with him, "you shall be ashore in no time," the older man said with a grin that exhibited his few remaining stained teeth.

Thaddeus smiled, but as he opened his mouth to reply, a series of belligerent, screamed whinnies stole his attention, spinning on Cain and then to rest of the herd, he thought, 'I do not see any _une_ kickin' up such a fuss.' Leaping onto a crate, he surveyed the second barge, less than twelve feet off their port side. " _Bordel de merde_!"

From his vantage point, he watched in growing horror as Boreas Red, their champion, charged stern to bow, tearing tether lines free and nipping at the others until their excited squeals filled the air.

Jumping down, Thaddeus ran to the flatboat's side, " _Bordel de merde_!" Unable to see his pal amongst the chaos of shouting men and dashing horses, he screamed, "FOX! FOX!"

After a tense minute, Fox's voice floated across the water like part of a bad dream, "Tad, I am losin' this battle."

Swallowing hard, Thaddeus eyed the nearing shore, trying to judge the distance, and heard the painful creak of wood. " _Merde,_ the railings." He threw a desperate look to the men, still way up, by the stockyard. A rending crack split through the air and, the bottom fell out of his stomach; the entire herd was free. . . swerving from the boatmen, ramming into each other, and bouncing off the railings. 'Them rails ain't goin' to put up with much more, and they hit that bank first… fuck they will be halfway to Baton Rouge afore we catch 'em.'

His half of Sienna's herd was avidly watching the second boat, and Cain was fighting his short-tied lead, trying to rear while screaming a stallion's challenge across the water. Thaddeus' eyes darted from Cain to shore and back again, "Fuck!"

Throwing his hat down, Thaddeus shouted, "Captain Kinney, have 'em tear them front side rails down." Jerking off his boots and socks, he looked to see if it was being done, yelling, "FASTER!" Unbuckling his holster, he rolled it up, dropping it atop his belongings, and took off for Cain.

In one swift motion, he tore the tie strap loose, leaping on the stallion's bareback, glancing to the bow, he saw boards being knocked free. Trotting Cain to the stern, the big gray's hoof beats sounded hushed compared to the snapping, splintering railings of the second flatboat. As he spun his horse, Thaddeus saw half of the Sienna Stable line spill into the river and moaned, "ah, fuck," his stomach knotting like he had drunk sour milk. Gripping tight of Cain, he muttered, "time to prove yourself." Not sure if he was speaking to his horse or himself as he slammed his bare heels down.

The staccato crack of Cain's hooves pounding the deck warned men to leap clear. Before them, the shore loomed closer, but not close enough, and then they were almost to the edge of the boat, frothing water swirling up and around the tub.

The stallion tensed; his black-tipped ears flicking in all directions and weaving a hand into his horse's mane, Thaddeus again slammed his heels down, releasing a war-whoop, and the pair of them sailed off the side of the flatboat, plunging into the murderous Mississippi.


	75. Chapter SEVENTY-TWO

Chapter Seventy-Two

The swirling, unrelenting current stripped Thaddeus from Cain's back, and the big horse twisted, whickering like a young foal.

Gripping with all his strength to the mane wrapped in his fingers, Thaddeus hauled himself back toward Cain, and clambering aboard, he clung to the stallion's neck, gasping, "still with you." He coughed, spitting out water, taking up the lead line dragging across his thigh. He urged, "come on swim, _Garçon,_ swim."

The grey fought the river, and just when Thaddeus began to doubt his decision, the stallion's long legs were striking ground, and they were exploding onto land with torrents of muddy water streaming from them.

Boreas, however, had reached land first, and on seeing a collection of men running his way, the red stallion tossed his head, making a swift left turn with a belligerent squeal.

"Boreas, you bastard," Thaddeus cursed, turning Cain after him, "get 'em!"

Stretching out, Cain chased after Sienna's head stallion, who was pulling away with his hooves throwing hunks of mud like shrapnel.

"Come on, Cain, fuckin' RUN!" Thaddeus screamed, laying the lead line back and forth across the stallion's rump. Having never felt a lash before, Cain shot forward with such force it about tore Thaddeus from his back. Burrowing down like a tick, Thaddeus thought, ' _desole, Garçon,_ but you have to catch 'em,' and laid the line across his rump again.

Then it was happening. Stride-by-stride Cain was closing the gap.

"Come on, _Garçon,_ " Thaddeus pleaded, his world narrowed down to his horse straining beneath him and Boreas' huffing breaths just ahead of them.

Then Cain was pulling past Boreas with Thaddeus thinking, 'he did…Cain did it, he beat our Champion.' Saying a quick prayer, Thaddeus reached for Boreas' flying lead line. The wet rope ripped at his hand, and he held tight, signaling Cain to turn. For once, the young stallion obeyed without hesitation, pulling around in a tight circle, dragging the red stallion with him, until the pair slowed to a standstill.

Looking from his horse to the big red at his side, a caterwauling cheer tore from Thaddeus. That is until he saw the rest of the herd scattering five ways to hell, and his joy floated away.

Reining Cain toward a collection of older mares, he said, "We got more to do, _Garçon._ " Gathering the mares, he herded them to the waiting stockyard employees, and while there, handed off Boreas.

The stockyard hands were already roping in nearby horses. Seeing this, Thaddeus nodded, spinning away to collect more of their scattered herd. As he did so, he spotted Fox on Ebby along with a stranger riding their gelding, Jefferson. For a full breath, Thaddeus watched the stiff, bouncing man, his temper rising. "Who the hell does he deem he is climbin' aboard _un_ of our _chevals_.' Taking a breath, he reminded himself the man was trying to be helpful and hollered to Fox, "Let's use those five to sweep up others."

After their initial dash for freedom, most of the animals had dropped to roll in the moist sand, and after shaking themselves, had begun ambling along grazing. So, when their herd mates strolled by, they placidly joined and, in this way, Thaddeus, Fox, and Jefferson's rider were steadily collecting the escapees, when abruptly the horse's ears perked, their heads jerking to watch at least two dozen horses racing along the shoreline. But not by choice, they were being herded by a lean, fancily clothed man riding another of their horses, a blue dapple mare named Ophelia.

Keeping one eye on the man, Thaddeus thought, 'Impressive idea, using the river like a fence line.' However, the loud chorus of resentful whinnies rising from the line of racers worried Thaddeus, and he yelled, "We need to push ours toward the trees before they spook."

Ophelia's rider was aiming the ribbon of running horses for an open corral gate. As they streamed in, a young sorrel reared, shying away. However, quicker than a lariat throw, the stranger had the sorrel turned inside the enclosure.

"Hell of a rider, that _un_ ," Thaddeus mumbled, glancing over with a frown at the scarecrow riding Jefferson. "Fox, y'all take these in and do a headcount. I am goin' do another sweep."

Finding three frightened two-year-olds, Thaddeus ushered them to the corrals, pushing them through the gate.

Fox called, "Fifty-three, Tad," and pointing to Jefferson, whom the small man was sliding down from, "fifty-four."

Thaddeus nodded to the stranger, who appeared shaken by the ride, calling, " _merci,"_

Pointing to the far corral where the other man still sat atop Ophelia, Fox shouted, "and there is fifty-five."

Trotting for Ophelia; Thaddeus hollered, “ _Monsieur_?”

The rider spun the blue mare, and pulling off a short, crowned top hat, Lafayette grinned ear to ear, his dark eyes shifting to scrutinize the line of horses being led in from the first flatboat. Determining all was well and in hand, he placed the squarish, black hat onto his head at a-devil-may-care angle, and hopping off Ophelia, shouted, "Christ almighty, _Frère Cadet_ climb on down here and let _moi_ look at you."

Thaddeus' bare feet hardly touched the muddy sand before Lafayette lifted him off the ground in a huge hug, roaring, " _Feu de l'enfer_ , look at you, Taddy." Setting him down, he held him at arm's length, shaking his head. "Father wrote that I would not recognize you, but I figured he was exaggeratin'."

Thaddeus ducked his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up and, Lafayette's loud, rich laughter filled the air. " _Par Dieu,_ you have doubled in size," he roared, pulling his younger brother into another heartfelt hug.

Once free, Thaddeus said, "Well, you have done some changin', too." He motioned to his brother's thick, straight black hair hanging beyond his shoulders in a long tail. "First thing Mams is goin' do is lop that tail off." Then cocking his left eyebrow, he asked, "And, why the hell, is you all trussed up like you been at a weddin'?"

Lafayette shrugged, "it is the latest style from Paris."

Thaddeus' left eyebrow raised sharply, "From Paris? Hmmm, is that so?" He snorted out a laugh, "Paris?"

Red crawled across Lafayette's cheeks, flaming up his ears, and bowing his head, he cleared his throat.

" _Feu de l'enfer_ , I see this place ain't made for _moi._ Cause, ain't any way in hell, I am to be dandied up like that."

"Would not expect it of you." Lafayette answered, scanning his comfortably dressed brother, thinking, ' _Par Dieu,_ I have missed you.' When from outside their conversation, he overheard Fox and Connor becoming acquainted and striding over, drawled out, "Damnation, Northrup, it is good to see you, _excusez-moi_ manners... " He waved toward Connor, "for not introducin' y'all."

"It is all right." Fox answered, his brown eyes shifting to the toes of his boots, "fellas all asked me to say, ya is missed."

Lafayette's smile became a thin, painful line, "nice of you to say so." Grabbing Connor about the shoulders, he turned from Fox, his smile large and carefree again. "Hey, _Frère_ , you done met Fox, but this here..." He held out a hand toward Thaddeus like a man showing off a blue-ribbon winner, "is _mon petit frère_ , Thaddeus Robert."

Thaddeus' tongue flicked across his lower lip, 'why'd he just call 'em _frère_?"

"Welcome _,_ Laddy, way ye siblings go on and on about ye, I gotta say, I been right eager to meet ye," Connor said, throwing a hand out.

Studying Connor, Thaddeus thought, 'he was the _un_ doin' such a piss poor job ridin', Jefferson,' and canting an eye toward his brother, he wondered, ' _Qu'elle_ have they been sayin' 'bout _moi_?'

"Ah, break off looking so peevish, Boyo." Connor chuckled, passing Thaddeus a wink, "I be preparing to take ye as ye are, not as they have built ye up to be." 

"Damn fine, 'cause I ain't no kind of saint."

"That be right grand, ye saying so." Connor answered, with a barking laugh, "'Cause they surely have not painted ye out to be one neither."

Thaddeus' face fell, and then he started laughing, as did the others.


	76. Chapter SEVENTY-THREE

Chapter Seventy-Three

Captain Kinney called out, "Hello, all." Walking up with Thaddeus' holster draped over his shoulder, along with his boots and hat dangling from his left hand. "Thought you might like these."

" _Merci,_ Captain," Thaddeus said, buckling on the Remington and dropping to the sand; he began dusting his feet to put on his socks. "I will come aboard, shortly, to retrieve _m'_ saddle and gear. I do apologize for our damn disorganized unloadin', and I will get Lafe here…" He nodded toward his brother, "to pay for the damages to the boats."

"Not to worry, flatboats only make one trip. Then they be torn apart and sold for their lumber."

"Huh?" Thaddeus grunted, working his socks on.

"Must say, ye departure was entertaining." Captain Kinney smiled at the river rolling by. "Ol' Miss can be a mean mistress. I be pleased ye and all ye horses made it to shore still breathing." He chuckled, smiling down on Thaddeus, "I tell ye, that be one devil of a stunt ye pulled, leaping from my boat like that. Time the years over, I will be hearing tales of it from here to Minnesota; for you know it, ye will be a legend."

Thaddeus grinned crookedly, climbing to his feet, "Well, hell, that sure was not part of _m'_ plan."

"Colory and courage bring about the best tales; either way, I would like to be the first to shake a legend's hand," Kinney said, taking Thaddeus' hand in a firm grip. "Look here, Will and Clifford, appear to be saving ye boys from having to go back aboard."

"Cannot say it makes me sorry, none." Thaddeus casually replied, and realizing it sounded insulting, grinned crookedly at Captain Kinney. "It ain't nothing 'gainst you, I just ain't made out to be a boatman." He glanced at the river, "Nah, _jamais_ did get used to the sound of all that water 'bout _moi_."

Captain Kinney nodded good-naturedly, "as I said before, some are not meant for it."

"I do not know, Tad." Fox spoke up, "at first, I kind of liked it. It was kind of soothin', and there was not anyone shootin' at ya, and I did not have to fret 'bout who might be comin' out of the trees."

Thaddeus shook his head, "You realize, if'n you would lay off goin' on so many patrols, you would cease being so jumpy."

Lafayette and Connor exchanged a look of confusion that deepened when Fox's shoulders curled up around him like a cloak.

"I ain't twistin' on you," Thaddeus said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Just statin' truth is all."

Feeling the tenseness brewing between them, Lafayette spoke up, "While these animals are still tired, I deem we should push 'em on to _L'Eau Sucrée_."

Thaddeus' mouth popped open, his eyes bulging a bit, "but I am hungry."

"When ain't you?" Lafayette replied, " _Jésus a pleuré_ _,_ I planned on feedin' y'all first." His eyes narrowed at the pair of Texas saddles, the boatmen laid down side-by-side, and he sucked at his front teeth.

Hearing him, Thaddeus looked up from where he was cutting the rawhide straps holding his saddle in a compact bundle. " _Qu'elle?"_

"That other _une_ ain't _m'_ saddle??"

Thaddeus unsympathetically answered, "why would it be." Even as Fox squatted and began cutting the rawhide straps from his saddle.

Lafayette glanced to the boats with their flat bottoms rammed into the sandy shore, "You _vraiment_ did not bring _moi m'_ saddle?"

"Never thought to," Thaddeus replied, not looking up.

"Hey, Tad, mind if'n I cull Ebby for me?" Fox asked, standing and shaking his saddle, his bridle falling to the sand as the straps unbound themselves.

"Choose any you want, ceptin' Cain and Boreas," Thaddeus said, shaking his tack out and finally noticing his brother's pinched stare. " _Zut,_ Lafe," he grunted, bending to retrieve his bridle. "Go rent, buy or thieve _une_ whatever suits your damn fancy but fuckin' break off watchin' _moi_ like some damn backporch hound."

Lafayette's mouth settled in a thin, flat line that had his left dimple twitching.

Hefting his saddle, Thaddeus ignored him, striding over and tossing it on Cain's back. He could hear his brother following on his heels. " _Jésus a pleuré,_ I did not think to fuckin' grab yours... _excusez-moi._ But, hey, I brought Coffee."

At this, Lafayette's face exploded into a smile that had his dimples creasing his cheeks, and he ran over, climbing up the corral fence.

Watching him, Connor asked, "Coffee??"

"His _cheval,_ " Thaddeus answered, pulling Cain's girth cinch tight.

"Oh, Coffee is a horse."

Thaddeus grunted affirmative, tying the strap off.

"Then who be this big one?"

"His lineage papers read Appalachian Blue. We all call 'em Cain." Thaddeus winked, flopping the stirrup down, "since he is a damn, ornery _démon_ , so beware of 'em."

A high whistle cut through the air, dipping out low, warbling back up as it sang out.

Connor turned toward the corrals, and Thaddeus answered his quizzical look with, "Just watch."

Four horses were separating from the herd, cantering to the section of fence Lafayette was standing on.

"That is Connagáin, Leontes, Malcolm, and Saffron," Thaddeus said, listing the horses as he pointed to each. "That is his personal string, but that dark bay, Connagáin Gaoth, or as Lafe calls 'em Coffee... is his pet."

Watching his pal hop down into the corral amongst his horses, Connor muttered, "that be Irish, Connagáin Wind."

"Father says Gaelic, quite a few of 'em have Gaelic _noms._ "

Connor looked swiftly to Thaddeus.

"Father has his ways of remindin' _moi_ and _m'_ siblings that were as much Gaelic as we are _François_." 

Connor scratched of his Van Dyke beard, thinking, 'do that not be something? Boyo has never spoken of him being Irish, hmmm." Smiling, he said, "I never heard of horses running up like dogs."

"We train 'em all to respond to different whistles, some to our own specific calls," Thaddeus answered, leading Cain over to the corral containing Lafayette. " _Feu de l'enfer,_ Lafe, they all are right pleased to see you."

Lafayette replied with an enthusiastic nod, still scratching and chatting with his string line like a young boy amongst his pals. 

"I brought Nelly, too." Thaddeus said, "ain't Josie goin' to be damn thrilled."

"She would, but she ain't here."

" _Qu'elle_?" Thaddeus snapped, peering around like he expected to see her sitting on a fence rail. "Where in the hell is she?"

Turning from his horses, Lafayette took a step toward the fence, worry filling his eyes, "Did Father not tell you she was gettin' married?"

Rolling his teeth across his lower lip, Thaddeus shrugged, "He might have mentioned it."

"Figured he would," Lafayette replied, giving each horse a final pat, before sidling through the railings.

"Yeah, I recall 'em sayin' something'." Thaddeus answered, spitting on the ground. "did not pay too much mind, _feu de l'enfer_ , it takes a gal, most of, _duex_ years to get married."

Throwing up his hands with a snort, Lafayette said, "How many times, I told you to listen to everything someone says."

Thaddeus' brows drug down into a well-seated scowl.

Crossing his arms, Lafayette exhaled, leaning his back to the fence. "Jo was married back in May at her husband's family home, in the Garden District, it was all rather quaint. Hell, I even gave her away."

Thaddeus took a step toward Lafayette, "why did she hitch up so fuckin' fast?" He took another step, his scowl growing darker. " _Par Dieu,_ if'n you say, she was in a delicate damn condition... I am goin' to punch you right in the face."

"Thaddeus Robert!?" Lafayette shouted, shifting off the fence, looming tall over his brother, " _Pour l'amour de Dieu_! I guarded over our _sœur_ better than that."

Thaddeus did not shrink from Lafayette's stern eyes.

After a few breathes, Lafayette said, with crisp, preciseness, "Her _fiancée_ , Jonathon Burgess, had family business overseas that would keep him there more than a year. It was Jo, who chose a fast marriage and traveling abroad, rather than awaiting his return. Besides neither, Father nor I saw any reason to make her wait; if'n it was her that wished to skip all the peculiar customs tied to a wedding. Especially when you consider most of 'em were created by _filles_ , anyhow."

"She would not do that . . . . you are pullin' _m'_ damn leg," Thaddeus said, but when Lafayette's expression remained impassive, he canted his eyes to Connor. "Is he?"

"Laddy, she up left two-days after her wedding. It has been downright dull with her gone, too. 'Course it do not be helping none, how your _frère_ has kept us each minute of the past two weeks here at the stockyards."

Thaddeus cocked his head, arching a brow, “ _Qu’elle_?”

The brothers faced each other.

Then one dimple pitted Thaddeus' cheek, and Lafayette pulled him into an embrace, laughing, "Like I said, damnation, I have missed you... ill-temper and all."


	77. Chapter SEVENTY-FOUR

Chapter Seventy-Four

The next morning with ailment ripe in his face, Fox squinted at the orange ball of sun rising over the Mississippi River as he crawled on Ebby.

Thaddeus chortled loudly, mimicking his pal's slurred voice of the night before, "Oh, Hell, I can drink all these and more and be better than ya in the mornin'."

"For the love of our friendship, which ya are pushin' hard 'bout now. . ." Fox groaned, heaving out a sigh as he adjusted himself in his saddle seat. "…shut ya fuckin' pan, it is too early, and my head hurts too much, for ya ridiculin'."

Tapping Fox on the arm with a pint bottle, Thaddeus laughingly snorted, "here, take a few drinks; you will feel better."

Hearing them, Lafayette scowled, his hand on the corral gate latch, he hollered, "Taddy?!"

Thaddeus jerked to attention, studying the three dark-skinned men his brother had brought from _L'Eau Sucrée,_ Julien, Rosier, and André, who were already in position. Retrieving his bottle, he trotted Cain to the spot; he should have already been manning.

Expecting the horses to rush forward, Lafayette adjusted his footing, setting himself firm in his stiff, new saddle, and threw open the gate.

The herd shifted, backing away.

Frowning, he edged Coffee in, and the herd bunched tighter, in the far corner. " _Qu'elle diable?_ "

A loud, rude laugh rolled from Thaddeus.

Turning in his saddle, Lafayette scowled darkly at his younger brother, already irritated that Thaddeus had tied one on so fast; he had been forced to spend yet another night in LaPlace.

"Appears to _moi,_ they all recall _qu'elle_ happened last time they were pulled out of a strange corral."

The scowl turned darker, " _qu'elle_ are you blatherin' 'bout _?"_

"They all think you are puttin' em back out on the River."

With a sigh, Lafayette urged Coffee toward Sienna's herd, determined to force them out of the corner, thinking, 'ain't the way I wanted to start this day.'

"Hey. . ." Thaddeus called, "you doin' it the hard way, call Clío."

Reining in, Lafayette released several short, high whistled notes.

The golden-red mare pricked her ears toward him.

Again, Lafayette released the short, whistled melody, and their head bell mare, Clíodhna of Sienna, separated herself from the tightly packed herd. "That is, it _madame._ " He whistled a third time, smiling and calling, "Come on, Clío."

The wide-chested mare trotted straight to him, and reaching over, he ran his hand along her crest, ruffling her pale, silky mane. " _Merci,_ Clío _Fille._ " Slipping a loop about her neck, he stroked her again, "all right _,_ let us take 'em on home. _"_ With a chirk to Coffee, the three of them trotted from the corral, the herd falling in behind Clíodhna like children after the Piper.

In less than half an hour, they had left the harbor town behind. As the horses realized they were not being taken to the river, they began frolicking, bucking, and swerving from the road, thoroughly enjoying their newly delivered freedom.

Releasing the bell mare, Lafayette trotted to an outside flank of the herd, hollering, "urge 'em up. A faster pace will make it easier to keep 'em together."

A couple of fast miles wore the mischief out of the herd, and they fell easily into a quiet, smooth walk. They pushed the horses southeast, varying between walking and extended trots, and by late evening, they had covered more than thirty miles.

Their second day started without incident, and they kept up the same fast pace, and, by the time the summer sun was dipping west, Lafayette thought, 'we will be home with, just, enough light left to get 'em all settled. _Feu de l'enfer,_ I am ready for a bath, few tumblers of rum, and food. _Par Dieu,_ I am damn tired of being in the saddle.'

After thinking this, he laughed inwardly, ' _Jamais_ figured ridin' would make _moi_ tired, suppose it shows what city livin' will do. Well, with Taddy and the _chevals_ here, I will become accustomed to the saddle again, right quick.' Looking to his brother on drag, he thought, 'ought to send André to alert the stables, then speak with Taddy.'

Pointing to Coffee moving toward the head of the herd in a rocking, ground covering trot, Thaddeus said, "There he goes, again. Swear _m' frère_ ain't ever been _une_ to just let the damn road take 'em there. _Toujours_ plannin' and fuckin' dartin' about like a bee stung jackrabbit."

"He does be one for figuring and keeping moving, that be for sure," Connor answered, taking a slow draw on the cheroot he was smoking.

"So, you been by his side, ever since that damn bar brawl that 'bout killed 'em?"

"I have."

"And you are the _une_ who saved 'em."

Without at the slightest hint of arrogance or bravado, Connor replied, "That be what he says."

"Well, then, I am grateful. Hell, we all are."

Connor huffed out a laugh, and there was a soft gentleness to it as he replied, "It caused a mite of problems between Lafe and I."

"How?"

Licking his lips, Connor glanced over, "See, I met your _frère_ the day he arrived in New Orleans. He showed me a kindness." He nodded, "we kept coming across each other here and again, and I came to admire him."

Thaddeus' brows pulled together.

"It be how he is not the sort to treat others like they are dirt beneath his boots. Always a smile and friendliness with him. It be why I stepped in that black night, I told me self, one who be so decent, did not deserve an early death, most certainly not by the hand of a shabby backstabber."

Thaddeus swallowed hard.

"Our trouble began when he wanted to move me in with ye family. I rightly argued with him, for I be feeling like he bethought me an obligation." Connor looked over with a cheeky grin and chuckled. "That be when I found out arguing against him, sure does rile him up."

Thaddeus snorted, "Yeah, he ain't all friendliness and smiles."

"No, no, he is not. He turned downright vehement, decreeing, in his tally book, I now be family. He then told me to clamp me mouth up and let him treat me as such."

" _Vraiment?"_

Connor nodded briskly, "I be hardheaded, but not like the likes of him. It was not till later that Jo taught me that it be easier to give in, as he can be a cantankerous dog with a bone."

A laugh burst from Thaddeus, "that is damn true. Although…" He winked at Connor, "it is also why I like stirrin' em up at times."

"So, he moved me into Miz Lorraine's bachelor's quarters, along the back of the garden. I be deciding it be best to accept his offer…at least until he settled down. Except, he be up and moving his self out there that very day, and . . ." Connor glanced at Thaddeus, "…took to calling me, _Frère_."

"Sounds 'bout right," Thaddeus answered, in a casual, half-amused way.

Connor tilted his head, his brows rushing together questioningly.

"Him takin' you in and all, it sounds 'bout right."

A flat darkness edged in, overtaking the merriness that filled Connor's eyes.

"Back home, he has Jackson; he considers him a _frère_." Thaddeus shook his head, " _Feu de l'enfer,_ been times I felt, I stood, just barely, a notch higher than Jackson. And, Gabe he has Brody; them _duex_ are damn inseparable. Truth be. . ." the corners of Thaddeus' mouth puckered, "so were Lafe and I, afore he was sent away. Felt fuckin' odd being alone. Hell, did not know how to do it, and found myself growin' closer to Fox." He nodded toward his redhead pal riding along the left flank, "Loneliness is a cold bitch. . ." He shrugged, "So, I can see how Lafe went searchin' for someone down here."

Sadness wafted from Connor, and he looked sharply away, inhaling deep.

The color drained from Thaddeus' face, guilt blossoming in his gut, " _bordel de merde_ , Connor, that did not come out as I meant at all."

Connor kept his gaze on the horses moving smartly along the road before them.

" _Vraiment,_ it did not."

Fiddling with his cheroot, Connor took a long drag of it.

"Lafe _jamais_ says anything he does not mean, not anything. If'n he determined you were to be his _frère,_ then you are."

A stream of bluish smoke drifted from Connor.

"Connor?"

"My family died with empty stomachs in Ireland. The landowner, he crammed Me and me, sis, in the hull of dark, stinking, death plagued boat with other wretches just as pathetic as we." He inhaled, batting his eyes. "She did not make it. Died down in that putrid darkness, and they threw her in the sea like she be rubbish. Suppose that be all others think of the Irish anyhow." Taking a breath, he turned to Thaddeus, the strain of his life showing plainly on his face. "It be why I argued against Lafe calling me family. I know what it be like to be thrown aside when others be done with you. But he was true as his word, and he made me a part of his family. . ." He swallowed hard, "He blessed on me, all I been praying for since setting my feet down here. Now, you say it was only to fill his loneliness. . ."

Thaddeus' green eyes darted from Connor's intense stare, "If'n Lafe vouched you _famille_ you will be through all days." Bowing his head, Thaddeus said slowly and firmly, " _m' famille_ tells _moi,_ regularly, I need to listen to all people have to say and to think far more afore I speak." Biting his lower lip, he peeked up, "and Connor, this would be _une_ of 'em times, cause _qu'elle_ I said, truly did not come out as I meant."

Connor's face smoothed, a gleam of hope returning, softening the hardness in his eyes.

A hint of Thaddeus' crooked, chipped tooth grin appeared, and he entreated, "I would say we best be gettin' to know each other a whole lot fuckin' better…. being _famille_ and all." Then the mischievous grin came out in full force, and popping Connor on the arm, he asked, "so, _Gran Frère,_ you got any more of those sweet-smellin' cheroots?"

Connor's eyed Thaddeus for a full minute before smiling brightly, answering, "I rightly do, Boyo." Digging one out, he passed it over. "Ye certainly vexed me."

"You will get used to it; I am told I am damn vexin'."

Connor exhaled, "I believed Lafe be having him a heart bigger than he ought to. Ye words set back to thinking me self foolish to be believing all he been saying."

Thaddeus studied the small, thin cigar, "Connor, you believe 'em afore _moi_ any day of the month, and I mean that."

"I be keeping that in mind," Connor replied, confidence flowing him back out. "Now, Boyo, it took me not long at all to get downright attached to ye family. They treat me like one of their own, and that Mikey, he be a good lad, wise and full of wit. But his _máthair_ , she be sweeter than a dozen _beignets_."

" _Máthair_ _?_ Is that Mother?"

Connor nodded.

Thaddeus brows lowered and then shot up, "KATHERINE?!"

"Whom else would I be speaking of?"

"Josie!?"

"Ah, now Jo, she be sweet. A right fine lassie: boisterous and loving, just the proper type of lass to have for a Sis."

"Well, Josie is all that," Thaddeus answered while lighting the cheroot, "but, Katharine, sweet?"

"You not be—"

Whatever more Connor had to say was interrupted by Lafayette riding up, barking, "if'n you _deux_ are done gossipin', I would like to borrow, Taddy."

Connor looked to Thaddeus and back to Lafayette, "ye going to clue him in before we reach home?"

"I might."

"Ye do it. Be no need to be blindsiding him _._ "

"You think I would do that?"

With a roll of his eyes, Connor replied. "Yes, and we all three know it."

Lafayette's dimpled smile unfurled, "take _m'_ place along the flank, _s'il vous plaît_."

Before riding off, Connor turned a severe eye on Lafayette, "it set ye back, set ye back hard. It will do the same to him, so I be trustin' the goodness in ye to do the right of it."

Thaddeus' quizzical gaze followed Connor as he rode off.


	78. Chapter SEVENTY-FIVE

Chapter Seventy-Five

"Let us drop back a bit," Lafayette said.

Thaddeus' nose wrinkled.

" _Jésus a pleuré_ , you can still see 'em all, and we will not be eatin' so much dirt."

" _Qu’elle_ is Connor talkin’ ‘bout?"

Lafayette smiled pleasantly over at his brother, receiving a frown in return. Taking up his canteen, Lafayette removed its top, enjoying a long drink.

"They ain't used to this wet heat," Thaddeus said matter-of-factly, his eyes roaming across the sweat streaked horses. " _Par Dieu_ , I ain't neither." Placing his hat on his Texas Hope Saddle's raised horn, he shook out his damp hair. "Feel like I am being fuckin' roasted." Unbuttoning his vest, he untucked his shirt, peeling the wet fabric from his back. Having done so, he eyed Lafayette, who had every button still in place, including those of his sleeves. "How do you tolerate it?"

"I been here as it built up from spring." He passed Thaddeus a rakish, dimpled grin. "I do feel for you and Fox havin' just stepped into as you have."

Taking a couple of swigs from the canteen Lafayette passed him, Thaddeus splashed a bit in his hat, "How much further?"

"Close enough…" Lafayette replied, veering about a thick streamer of Spanish moss dangling across the road. "…. I directed André to ride on, ensuring the stables were prepared for our arrival."

Tilting his head back, Thaddeus plopped his hat on, sighing as the water ran down his scalp and neck. "Probably, a _bonne_ idea. You able to tell 'em all that is required?"

Slanting an eye to his brother, Lafayette thought, 'since he got here, he has been droppin' remarks of someone used to being in charge. Reckon I should expect as much, from Father's letters and all. Still, it does not keep it from chafing _moi_ wrong.'

Deciding not to start an unnecessary debate, Lafayette replied, "André has been part of _L'Eau Sucrée_ stables for more than _dix_ years. He knows _qu'elle_ is needed. Although I did instruct 'em to cut through the front edge of the cotton field." Lafayette shook his head, "I loathe destroying a portion of the crop, but there ain't _non_ way, I will have the front lawn torn to shreds."

"Did you say cotton?!"

Knowing his brother as well as he did himself, Lafayette softly answered, "that would be part of _qu'elle_ I needed to chat with you 'bout."

His words stiffened Thaddeus' spine.

"There is an abundance of slaves at _L'Eau Sucrée_."

Thaddeus' eyes darted to the pair of negros riding herd, his jaw clenching so tight, the muscles stood out like he was sucking on marbles.

"Afore you curse _moi,_ " Lafayette said hurriedly, " _they_ are freemen-of-color. I am payin' 'em a _bonne_ wage."

The green eyes turned from the men to Lafayette, and they were bright with anger.

"The Buefords and Begnoirs own slaves, ain't damn much I can do about it. But I did make certain; _non_ slaves would be tendin' Sienna Stables."

His brother's anger hung heavy between them like a living thing, and for no reason he could place, Lafayette felt a shiver run down his spine. Swallowing, he produced a wane smile. "I was outright cheered when I read Sienna no longer has slaves. _Une_ day, the steps I am implementing, I too will be able to say the same of _L'Eau Sucrée_ _."_

"Sounds like you are fuckin' settin' yourself up to remain here."

"I am weighing _m'_ options."

Thaddeus' face pinched.

"I have not made any final decisions." One corner of Lafayette's mouth drew downward. "Besides, I remain unwelcome at home."

"Fuck, Lafe, you ain't--"

"Stop!" Lafayette held up a hand. "I am considerin' _qu'elle_ the years to come will bring."

Thaddeus remained silent, disapproval wafting from him.

"Father _jamais_ elaborates much on the operational side of the racing circuit; true?"

A tight nod was all the answer he received.

"Thusly, I have been educatin' _mon_ self. See, we all rightly know there will come a day when we, _trois frères_ , will find it necessary to take charge of all industry regarding Sienna Stables."

"Fathers been hedgin' around the same line of talk with _moi_."

"I already knew that," Lafayette replied brightly. "I do get regular posts. I said I was _unwelcome_ at home, not _unwanted_."

Thaddeus snorted derisively.

Lafayette chuckled, "ah, Taddy, you have derailed _moi._ I wish to explain 'bout the plantation afore we reach it."

"Well, go on." Thaddeus dryly replied, undoing a couple of shirt buttons, muttering, "damn, fuckin' heat."

"You plannin' on still being dressed when we ride in?"

" _Très_ fuckin' funny." Thaddeus snapped, "get to talkin'."

"Father ever inform you, _Grand-mère_ placed _moi_ in charge of all affairs regarding the Begnoir-Bueford estates?"

"He mentioned it."

"See, her _frère_ , who lived at _L'Eau Sucrée_ passed three-years-ago…" As he spoke, Lafayette noticed Thaddeus' awareness shifting to the moving herd. Sighing heavily, he snarled with a bit more venom than he intended, " _Frère,_ pay attention!"

Thaddeus shot him a startled look, "I was."

" _Par Dieu_ , for once, fuckin' listen to everything I am sayin'."

"Screw you."

"Back at you! Fuckin' pay attention," Lafayette growled low, feeling his rage simmering. He looked away, taking a deep breath, holding until he had counted to ten and releasing it slow. Looking back to Thaddeus, he cocked an eyebrow at him.

Smiling, with guilt shining in his eyes, Thaddeus responded, "no reason to get heated; I will listen."

" _Grand-mère_ and her _frère_ were the only children of their family to attain adulthood. When _Grand-mère_ Lorraine married Michaël Robert Bueford, she moved away from _L'Eau Sucrée_."

"So that is where _m'_ middle _nom_ comes from?" Thaddeus grunted, breaking into a surprised smile.

" _Christ sur un chariot._ It ain't _non_ secret. It is written write in the front of the _famille_ bible; the _une_ that has lain on parlor piano, your entire life."

" _Jamais_ looked."

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Lafayette bitingly replied, "obviously."

"Well then, smartass, where did Thaddeus come from?"

Lafayette's brows bunched in consideration, and after a moment, he shrugged. "Would you cease derailin' _moi?_ "

Thaddeus beamed out a smile.

"Anyway, Michaël and Lorraine had our _Mère,_ and later a _garçon_ they named for _Grand-mère_ Lorraine's father."

"Hmpf! Never knew _Mère_ had a _frère_."

"Somehow, I do not find that unfeasible, in the least, considerin' you did not know you are _nommé_ after _Grand-père_ Michaël _."_

Abruptly, Thaddeus saluted Lafayette with his middle finger causing his brother to erupt into a laughing jag, and when he settled, he blew out a breath, saying, "now, where was I?"

" _Grand-mère's_ children."

"All right, her _garçon_ died from Yellow Jack, leavin' our _Mère,_ Gena Lorraine, as their only child. I do hope you know her descendant line!"

" _Par Dieu_ , I fuckin' forgot _qu'elle_ a fuckin' knee-slapper you judge yourself to be."

An exuberant dimpled smile appeared, "So you know that line. Well, _Grand-mère's frère,_ Lafayette had himself a whole passel of _filles…._ seven or eight, I think it was. He married 'em off, and they are sprinkled amongst _familles_ from Biloxi to Richmond."

Lafayette saw Thaddeus jerk, and knowing he was preparing to interrupt him, yet again, he snarled, "do not ask me their _noms._ I do not recall."

"I was not fixin' too. I was goin' say that means we got us a passel of cousins across the South."

Lafayette squinted at his brother and then deliberately shook his head. "I had _non_ notion it would be so difficult to keep you on track."

Thaddeus shot back with a wicked grin, "but I am listenin'."

This time it was Lafayette who flagged his middle finger.

Chuckling, Thaddeus said, "you ain't excited we got cousins?"

" _Feu de l'enfer,_ we got Crowe cousins in Kentucky…. we have been told 'bout them by Father. _Qu'elle??_ Do you deem we are all alone in this world?"

Thaddeus shrugged.

"I swear, there are times, you are a top-rail _imbécile_."

Thaddeus' lips drew back in a feral snarl, "You pushin' to have yourself fuckin' knocked off that fuckin' _cheval_?"

"Not particularly," Lafayette answered, sidestepping Coffee to put some distance between him and Thaddeus.

"Besides your great discovery," Thaddeus growled, jabbing a finger at Lafayette, "that we got even more _famille_ spread across the South, only strengthens _m'_ reasonin' for not enlistin' with northern forces."

"A valid point. However, not the _une_ I am tryin' to get to."

"Well, hurry the fuck up."

"Well, cease intruptin' _moi._ "

Thaddeus' snorted again, releasing a lop-sided smile.

" _Grand-mère's frère,_ Lafayette had himself _une_ _fils,_ _nommé_ him after his father, just as he was. _"_

Thaddeus rolled his eyes, "so they were all Lafayettes; why is that so important?"

"I am getting' there."

"Slower than a nag mule."

Through gritted teeth, Lafayette snarled, "Taddy!"

"Go on, still listenin'."

"So, this Lafayette, he would have been out _oncle_ had his throat slit _une_ night in the _Carré_."

" _Vraiment?"_

Lafayette nodded.

"Now, _that_ is interesting."

"Thought so too, and I did some inqurin', learned he was a downright evil bastard, and most were quite frankly amazed he had not been killed earlier."

Thaddeus nodded, " _bonne_ story, by why tell _moi_ now?"

"It ain't 'bout the story; it is 'bout why they all _nommé_ their _fils_ Lafayette."

Dropping his forearms across the horn of his saddle, Thaddeus drawled, "and…?"

"Discovered in _m'_ search that our _Great Grand-Père_ Lafayette Henri Begnoir was a unique persona. His 'Inheritance Will' reads: _L'Eau Sucrée_ , all properties therein, monies, and Begnoir enterprises are to remain, at all times, within the Begnoir bloodline."

Thaddeus shrugged, "sounds reasonable to _moi_."

Running his tongue across his eyetooth, Lafayette grinned. "Yep, without exception, all is to be entailed to, the eldest bloodline heir bearing his _nom_."

"Eldest male Begnoir bearin' his _nom_?" Thaddeus squinted off to the side with a frown.

"Yep, _Great Grand-Père_ locked this point down in his will, locked it up so firm, breakin' it would be a hell of a feat." He chuckled half under his breath, "see, the point he locked down, so unwaveringly is the eldest child must quite literally bear _his nom_."

Thaddeus stared at his brother, considering what he had just said, and it came to him. "YOU!"

A full laugh rumbled from Lafayette.

Unable to keep his shock from his voice, Thaddeus shouted, " _L'Eau Sucrée_ and everything else is fuckin' yours."

"Technically, it has been mine since birth."

"Why you? Why did you get the _nom_ and not Gabe?"

" _Grand-mère’s_ Lafayette died just days after her _frère_ christened his _fils,_ Lafayette.”

"Uh! That so?"

Lafayette nodded, "and in her grief, she concluded, it is teasin' fate to place the same _nom_ on _duex_ children competin' for the same outcome."

Thaddeus mumbled, "I can see that."

"So, when Gabe was born, her _frère's_ Lafayette was still amongst the livin'."

"And he was murdered by the time you came around and…" Thaddeus shook his head with disbelief, "Fuckin' hell, if'n you do not have the most damnable _bonne_ luck."

Lafayette nodded, his dimples punctuating his smile, "got all the _bonne_ looks, too."

"That ain't so." Thaddeus jabbed a thumb at himself, "I got the _bonne_ looks."

"Deem, it would be a futile argument."

"You are concedin' an argument."

Lafayette snorted, grinning, "only 'cause we are so damn near home."

Shaking his head with a smirk, "that does not feel like a fuckin' fair win."

"I know," Lafayette laughed, riding close and slapping his brother on the back. "Man alive, _Grand-mère_ is goin' to be delighted to see you."


	79. Chapter SEVENTY-SIX

Chapter Seventy-Six

As they rode closer, the ancient Living Oakes grew more substantial, and Lafayette released a cheer, "all right _garçons¸_ bunch 'em together, push' em through the front gate, then swing 'em across the field."

As the riders tightened the herd, Boreas began nipping and ramming those nearest him, the horses twisted, veering from the stallion, and the herd swirled, falling apart.

Snagging up his bullwhip, Thaddeus whirled the long-braided whip above his head, flicking it out so it cracked like a gunshot toward the belligerent stallion.

Releasing a shrill whinny, Boreas' turned to face Thaddeus.

"Boreas, you _bâtard_ ," Thaddeus grumbled, swirling his arm, the whip singing as it sliced the air, cracking like distant rolling thunder over the animals.

The frightening sound set the rear horses into motion and surging forward; they slammed against the snorting stallion. With an angry toss of his head, Boreas spun, racing for the lead position even as Sienna Stable of pacers and racing stock streamed beneath the crisscrossed, reaching limbs of a massive oak standing sentry over _L'Eau Sucrée's_ front gate.

Inside the property, the animals veered, their posted tails streaming like silken banners, and Lafayette called, "Keep 'em out of the cotton crop as much as you can."

A pair of broodmares sauntered to a halt, dropping their heads to graze. Trotting in behind them, Thaddeus hissed them into movement, tapping the coiled whip against his leg, "Keep movin' Madams, you can rest soon enough."

As they trampled through the cottonfield, slaves gawked at the magnificent, whinnying horses flowing by like a rumbling multi-hued river, and the foreman tapped a long-legged boy on the shoulder. Taking one more, open-mouthed look at the beautiful chaos, the boy then ran for the pillared Great House, calling, " _Maîtresse_ Begnoir-Bueford, _Maîtresse_ Begnoir-Bueford _,_ the _Maîtres_ has returned."

As Thaddeus trotted after the herd, Lafayette reined Coffee in alongside the main drive. Sitting tall in his saddle, he watched Sienna's stock churn a destructive swath through his crop. Turning, he surveyed his property from the expansive stable to the shaded drive under the thick, twisting, moss-covered limbs of the oaks, to the various white artfully trimmed trade buildings that made _L'Eau Sucrée_ , very nearly its own working town.

There was no unused space that he could see, for in between it all was a lawn filled with arbors, walks, trimmed mazes, fountains, fruit trees, secluded areas designed for relaxation, and every niche overflowing with flowers. What consistently amazed him was how it all had been so cleverly designed to accent and draw a person's eye to The _Maison_. _'Mon_ entire life, I believed Sienna too big and pretentious. _Feu de l'enfer, m'_ old home will fit in the shadow of _L'Eau Sucrée's_ guest house.'

An enormous, swelling pride-filled Lafayette as he took in the monumental, three-story Greek Revival, built of brick, covered in a pale periwinkle-colored stucco. The north and south sides of each level contained five sets of double glass French doors. While on either end, staircases wove up from the ground to the very top, where the same decorative cast-iron fence encircled the second and third stories was repeated on the roof. As his gaze came to rest on the front of the house, he noted their family matriarch standing before the wide, shaded front porch.

Kicking Coffee, he yelped out a yahoo, racing the bay up the drive that ran under the Live Oaks, and reining him in at the house, he called, " _Bonjour, Grand-mère,_ it sure is _bonne_ to be home."

" _Vous_ has been missed."

Lafayette grinned, "you mean that, or just being polite?"

" _Vous_ terrrible imp, course, I mean it." Her eyes were drawn to the stable far below, "is he down there?"

"He is."

She smiled, "I find it hard to believe he is here."

"Better, 'cause he is."

Michaël was watching them as they spoke, and he asked, "who is here?"

A laugh rolled from Lafayette, "Come here, Mikey."

The boy ran straight to him, holding up his arms, and leaning down, Lafayette lifted Michaël to sit before him. "Once we get 'em all settled." He flung an arm toward the stables where the horses were noisily milling. "We will be up for _dîner_."'

"It will be prepared."

"Make sure there is a large spread; we all are near starved."

Lorraine's smile filled with warm understanding, "when are _messieurs_ not famished?"

"Most _jamais,_ " Lafayette replied. Laughing heartily, he locked an arm about Michaël, whispering, "Hold on." Tightening his knees, he set Coffee into a fast-rocking trot that left Michaël's laughter to float back to Lorraine Begnoir-Bueford, where she watched them go, in the gradually cooling, evening summer air.

The others were dismounted, congratulating each other on a difficult task accomplished when they rode up. On seeing them, Michaël yipped, " _Oncle_ Taddy!" The boy twisted in the saddle, looking up at Lafayette. "Nobody told _moi_ _Oncle_ Taddy was comin' with the _chevals_."

"Instructed 'em not to," Lafayette replied. "I wanted to surprise you," and stepping from his saddle, he shouted, "Hey, Taddy."

Seeing his nephew being lifted down, Thaddeus squatted, stretching out his arms. "Hey, Mikey!"

" _Oncle! Oncle!_ " Michaël called back, slamming into Thaddeus, his small hands encircling his uncle's neck. "They hid from _moi_ you were comin'." He laid a kiss on his uncle's cheek, whispering in his ear. " _Je t'aime._ "

"And I, you, Mikey," Thaddeus responded, kissing the boy back while loosening the tight hold he had about his neck.

"Hey, _Oncle_ Taddy, how is Patches?"

"Oh, that pup of yours has become quite the hound. Most times, he stays with Dora, but I have found 'em sleepin' on your bed. I would say he misses you." Thaddeus answered, standing with his nephew wrapped snugly in his arms. " _Par Dieu…_ " He bounced the boy. "You have grown like a weed down here in this heat."

"I like it here. I have made friends. But I miss y'all," Michaël answered with a grin. "And look..." he pointed, in his mouth. "I lost _m'_ first tooth."

"So, you did," Thaddeus answered with a laugh, and seeing Katharine approaching, he blew her a kiss. "Evenin', _Sœur_."

" _Bénis les Saints_ , you survived that horrible river," she said, coming up and placing a quick peck on her brother's cheek. "It is _bonne_ to see you, Taddy." She stepped back, really looking at him, and her eyes widened. "Father is right; you are quite changed."

"Everyone keeps sayin' that." He shrugged, "I do not seem to notice the difference."

"When I think of you," she touched a finger to her temple, "I see a _garçon._ But you…" She reached over, running the back of her finger up the whisker shadow of covering Thaddeus' cheek. "You have become a _monsieur."_

"Oh, that." He grinned, reddening, and rubbing away the tickling feeling she had left behind with the heel of his hand.

"It is more than that; you are so handsome, Taddy." Her eyes ran up and down him, "and so much taller, and look how you have filled out." She shook her head, "If'n I had seen you elsewheres, Father is correct, I may not have recognized you."

He looked down, and she could see she had embarrassed him.

"Well, I do expect you are hungry."

His head popped up, wearing the chipped-tooth grin that brought all his boyishness to the surface. " _Bienheureuse Marie_ , if'n I do not get something other than traveling food soon, I just may swoon right at your feet."

Everyone laughed except Fox Northrup, who felt, exactly, the same, and seeing Fox's dumbfounded expression, over her brother's shoulder, Katherine outright laughed, "Well, you are both safe for _dîner_ is being prepared. Our _Grand-mère_ is eager to sit down with you all. However…" Her dark eyes roved over the men grinning at her, "not _une_ of you shall set foot in the _Maison,_ until..." She pointedly looked to Lafayette, Connor, Fox, and back to her youngest brother. "… until each of you sheds a layer or more of dirt." She playfully pinched her nose, "y'all reek like... well, I cannot even think like _qu'elle_ ; just suffice that you do."

Lafayette's dimples appeared as he smiled widely, "after we sort the stallions from the herd, we shall head for the bathhouse."

"And, I will ensure water is heated, along with attire being laid out for y'all." Blowing a kiss to her brother, she called, "come along, Michaël, let them finish the labors at hand."

Thaddeus quickly responded, "Katharine, need 'em to stay; I have a surprise for 'em."

Hugging his uncle tighter, the boy shrieked, "for _moi!?_ "

"Yup, for you," Thaddeus replied.

"Michaël, you pay heed to all your _Oncles_ say."

Michaël gave his mother one of those quick affirmative nods he had learned from Lafayette.

Carrying his nephew to the corral fence, Thaddeus placed him on the top rail and climbed up to sit alongside him.

"What is _m'_ surprise?"

Leaning in close to his nephew, Thaddeus scanned the herd, "There…" he extended an arm, pointing, "you see the little silvery gray dapple way over there?"

Michaël looked down his uncle's arm, nodding fast and continuously.

Releasing a whistle that dipped high and low twice, Thaddeus grinned when the little dapple's head turned to him.

"You try it, Mikey."

Mikey's whistle was low and soft, so Thaddeus backed it up, his ringing out loud and sharp, and the horse came trotting their way.

"I will teach you how to whistle loud, Mikey, so that you can call 'em."

As the high-stepping dapple drew near, Michaël's mouth fell open, "He sure is ace-high."

Thaddeus peeked at his nephew, thinking, 'Can tell you been spendin' time with Lafe.' Not able to hold back his happiness, he smiled, hugging the boy closer. "I named 'em Osage Blue Mist, and he is all yours, with _m' amour_."

Michaël's brown eyes grew to the size of hen eggs, and he whispered, "mine?"

"You are a Crowe. You must have your own _cheval_."

" _Oncle_ Taddy, _merci beaucoup._ Can I ride 'em?"

"In the mornin', Osage has been on a long journey and deserves a rest."

Through his smile, Michaël exhaled, "in the mornin'."

"Yup." Thaddeus flung a leg back over the fence. "You stay and chat with 'em. I have work I need to accomplish." He leapt to the ground, but before walking too far, he spun, calling, "Mikey, do not enter the corral."

"All right, _Oncle_ Taddy."

"Not one foot on the ground! Some of them _chevals_ ain't safe 'round _petit garçons_. You hear _moi?_ "

"I do. I promise I will stay up here _._ "

" _Bonne garçon,"_ Thaddeus answered, and crossing to where Lafayette was shutting a paddock gate behind Cain, he said, "Mikey is awed by Osage."

"Knew he would be. That is quite the gift for a young _garçon."_

"Been trainin' Osage all this past season, just did not know I would be givin' em to Mikey so soon." Thaddeus looked back to where the boy sat. "Oh well, it made 'em happy."

"That it did."

Turning to grab his saddle from where he had seen it on a hitch rail, Thaddeus found it in the hands of a tall, thinly built negro. "I will take that," he said a bit sharper than he meant to, holding his hands out for the saddle.

The man took a step backward, "Mes _excuses, Maître_ Crowe, did I do something wrong?"

"Do not be callin' _moi Maître_! I ain't your Master. Him maybe..." Thaddeus jerked a thumb at his brother. "...and them up there, but I ain't. You call _moi_ , Tad, and I will see to _m'_ gear."

Laying a hand on his brother's arm, Lafayette softly said, "Jacque, would you kindly place Taddy's saddle, along with the others in the tack _chambre_."

Jacque's wide eyes shifted to Thaddeus before he nodded, " _Oui_ , _Maître_ Begnoir-Crowe."

"I will _not_ have men fuckin' slave for _moi_."

"As I told you on the way here, I am seekin' a cure for _L'Eau Sucrée_. However, it is not goin' to happen today, and Jacque knows the tack _chambre._ Sides, we got stallions to sort out, so grab up your rope." Walking on expecting Thaddeus to obey, Lafayette called, to a stable slave unsaddling Coffee, "Beaumont, toss _moi_ _m'_ slipknot rope."

"Here ya are, _Maître_ Begnoir-Crowe."

Catching it and realizing Thaddeus was not with him, Lafayette turned to see his brother standing rock still with his lips pressed so tight together, they had turned white. " _S'il vous plaît, Frère cadet,_ give a little here. These men..." He waved around at the negros. "... are proud of their positions at the stables. Until I can achieve _m'_ objective, _s'il vous plaît..._ "

"I do not agree with any of this." Thaddeus waved his hand round at the negros, this time.

Closing his eyes, Lafayette exhaled loudly before opening them. ".... just _s'il vous plaît."_

"I do not fuckin' like it."

"Did I ask you to like it?" The humor and good feelings of earlier had drained from Lafayette, leaving his eyes black and hard. "I do not fuckin' like it, Tad! _Qu'elle,_ I asked is for you to give a little."

Thaddeus' eyes slanted away and, he nodded, "Let us sort the herd."

Wading into the horses, they began roping in Sienna's stallions, handing each to Julien, Rosier, and André, who then delivered them to their private paddocks. All the while, Michaël avidly watched from where he now sat between Connor and Fox atop the fence.

When only geldings, mares, and young remained in the corral, Lafayette pointed to the far gate, which opened to the pastures, "Taddy, release your _bébés_. I would say they are more than ready, would you not?"

Slipping amongst the horses, Thaddeus spoke softly, his hands caressing each he passed. In return, the horses nudged at him, not so much crowding him but surrounding him, acknowledging him as the herd leader. When he flung the gate open, they spilled by snuffling and bumping him.

With the horses galloping and bucking across the open pasture, Thaddeus felt, for the first time, since he had pushed them through Sienna's gates like he could breathe, and thought, 'I did it, and I did not lose _une_ of 'em.' Standing there alone, with the last sun shining low through the trees, he breathed deep. 'I know Lafe was teasin' when he said they were _m' bébés._ But they are, and _qu'elle_ will I do without 'em?'

Suddenly, a young golden filly came charging his way, pulled up with a whicker, and headbutted him. He laughed, scratching her neck, "You go on without _moi, Étaín."_ She nibbled of his vest, and he lightly popped her rump, "Go on, _fille._ " She whinnied and ran full out for her mother, and Thaddeus frowned, muttering, "more than _qu'elle_ will I do without 'e, but who will I be without 'em?'


	80. Chapter SEVENTY-SEVEN

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Being the first ones out of the bathhouse, Connor and Fox hurried to the _Maison_ ready for whatever food awaited them and were dismayed to be ushered to the front parlor.

Yet on stepping into the fancy room, Connor unfurled a laughing smile, "Hello, Missus, I been wondering where ye be."

Lorraine turned, "Oh, Connor _Chéri_ , it is _bonne_ to have _vous_ back; it has been dreadfully dull with _vous_ away."

"It be grand to be home, and them horses be all Lafe and Jo ever boasted."

"I recall them from when I lasted visited Sienna."

Taking Lorraine's hand, Connor kissed the back of it. "Recalling and seeing be very differing, in the morning, I shall escort ye to the stables. Ye must seem them, Missus, they will take ye breath away."

"Well then, it sounds an ideal start to a day _._ "

Assisting Lorraine from her chair, Connor gestured to the doorway. "This one here, be one of ye grandson's boyos from Missouri, I been told his name is Clarence Northrup."

Fox's eyebrows dipped low; then he remembered who he was meeting, he put forth a smile.

Chuckling at the boy's mixed emotions, Connor went on, "Excepting; he be not caring for his proper name none, prefers the title 'Fox.' Hear tell; even his Mum calls him Fox."

Lorraine thoughtfully appraised the lithe, freckle-faced young man, with his thick thatch of ginger hair, and gently smiled, seeing his title in his looks. " _Monsieur_ Fox Northrup, I am _très content_ you have arrived safely to _L'Eau Sucrée_."

Stepping forward, Fox peeked at Connor, unsure what was expected, and at the last moment, gave Lorraine a swift, fumbled bow. "Thank ya kindly, Ma'am sure is a nice spread y'all have here." He said, releasing an overly broad smile that transformed his sharp, bony face into a grinning boy, who looked as out of place as he felt.

" _Me_ _rci beaucoup; s'il vous plaît_ , have a seat, _M._ Fox," Lorraine said graciously, gesturing to a velvet settee.

Fox's eyes roved over the light, sage-green fabric, thinking, 'sure glad I changed clothes.' He carefully took a seat on the low couch while gaping at the lavishly decorated, gilt-gold room. 'Hell, and I done thought Sienna was awfully grandified.'

Taking note of the boy's obvious discomfort, Lorraine waved a hand. "Violet, _sil vous plaît_ , brings the _messieurs_ rum."

" _Oui_ , _Maîtresse,"_ replied a deep ebony-skinned girl not much older than Fox.

Dropping on the same settee, Connor held up a cheroot, "Missus?"

"Connor _Chéri_ , as I have told you afore, smoke does not bother _moi_ in the least little bit." She chided, opening a pearl inlaid wooden box and removing a match; she handed it to Connor. "The aroma recalls to mind _m' mari,_ Michaël. This past June, he has been in heaven these fifteen years, and still, I miss him every day. "

Nodding solemnly, Connor drug the match along the sole of his boot, releasing a gossamer cloud of smoke into the room, before offering a small cigar to Fox.

The redhead declined, afraid he might inadvertently do some damage, and at that time, Violet glided over, handing a crystal snifter of rum to each man.

Fox sniffed the almost black liquor, thinking, 'smells of sugar. Hell, should have figured as much.' Intending to hand the delicate cordial glass right back, he shot the drink down, and a coughing gasp exploded from him with his eyes shooting wide.

Turning from the boy with a grin, Lorraine taking the carafe from Violet, and turning back, she asked, "Would you like a refill, _M._ Fox?"

"Thank ya, Ma'am, but no, thank you."

Connor chuckled, "Ye be thinking it a weak drink." He chuckled more, tipping his glass back. "Plantation rum smell like it be safe, but it be mighty powerful."

Topping off Connor's glass, Lorraine again offered Fox more, and when he shook his head, she took his glass, handing it and the decanter to Violet. " _Qu'elle_ can be keeping _m' fils_?"

"When we escaped them, Missus," Connor said, with a smile that had his eyes nearly disappearing. "Lafe was explaining to Taddy, for the third go through, how he were required to dress for dinner here."

"Were they quarreling _mal_?"

"Not any more than I have heard so far. That Lad finds pleasure in chafing Lafe." Connor took a drink of rum, "I can attest, Missus, he is the bundle of mischief his siblings been speaking of a right brash lad. Find myself adoring him, all the faster for it."

Lorraine lowered her head over her clasped hands, almost as if praying, "Then _m' petit Taddy_ is still a trouble rousing pup?"

Connor nodded, "perhaps, these days, with his size and stubbornness, he be more a wolfhound than a pup."

Entering the room looking entirely unlike himself in slim-fitted slacks, starched white shirt, an indigo brocade waistcoat, and cravat, Thaddeus snarled, "I heard that."

"Did not mean for ye not too," Connor answered, lifting his glass in a toast. "Like I done said, they be not making ye out to be no angel."

"Thaddeus Robert, _m' fils,_ " Lorraine heaved, rushing to him.

Shifting shyly, Thaddeus glanced at his brother for guidance.

Then Lorraine had him in her arms, hugging him tight. "Having _vous_ here is like a wish granted by _Dieu,_ I _jamais_ believed to see _vous_ again."

Pulling back, Thaddeus looked down into her eyes, "Why is that _Grand-mère_?"

"A journey to Sienna would be too much for _moi,_ and oh, _m' chéri_ , I still recollect your dislike for the _Vieux Carré_ _._ "

Thaddeus' cheeks reddened, "Was I that vocal on _m'_ last _visite_?"

"Ain't that consistently how you are?" Lafayette asked, leaning in to kiss Lorraine's cheek. "You look _belle_ , _Grand-mère_."

" _Merci,_ Lafe." Her eyes ran brightly over her elder grandson's face before returning her attention to the younger. "Having _vous_ both here, I feel beyond blessed."

"Taddy, want some rum?" Lafayette asked, nodding for Violet to fill him a glass.

Thaddeus nodded, and kissing his Grandmother's cheek; he walked deeper into the fancy parlor. An invigorating citrus scent drifted from the freshly bathed men, and their robust masculinity was overwhelming amidst the dainty trimmings of the room. Gazing lovingly at her grandson, Lorraine said, "My goodness, you both so resemble _m' fille_."

"If'n you think that you should see Dora," Thaddeus said, taking the offered glass. "Father proclaims her a perfect copy of _Mère,_ " and with a smiling nod, he swallowed the rum in one gulp. Stamping a foot on the floor, he gasped, "Whew! That is strong."

Lafayette, Connor, and Fox all hooted with laughter; watching them, Lorraine swelled with happiness, enjoying the warm sound of their voices. She thought, 'it has been too long since _messieurs_ were a part of _L'Eau Sucrée_.'

Thaddeus handed the tiny cut glass goblet to Violet and moved on to a painting of a proud-looking dark-haired man, thinking, 'must be the first Lafayette. Hmmm…. I can see 'em in us.' As he studied the portrait, Thaddeus removed his cuff links, pocketing them, and strolling on, taking in the parlor, he loosened his cravat and rolled his shirt sleeves, much to his elder brother's irritated dismay. "Gotta admit, I have been curious 'bout _L'Eau Sucrée_. It is breathtakin'. _Toujours_ considered Sienna damn--" Sucking in his lips at his curse, he turned red-faced to his family, "…well, overly fine, but it is simple in comparison."

"That is kind of you _m'_ _fils._ Nevertheless, do not degrade your Sienna; it is quite _charmant_. I enjoyed the _visite_." Spreading out a gracious smile, she asked, "Shall we adjourn to _dîner_?"

"Lead the way, _Grand-mère._ " Thaddeus offered his arm, "I am down-right famished."

Laying her hand across his bare forearm, she gently shook her head at his rolled sleeves, saying, "It is quite warm this evening. I felt it would be best to have _dîner_ on the upstairs back veranda, where we might enjoy breezes." At this, her eyes darted to Lafayette, "Of course, if you would only allow the fanners."

"It is demeaning," Lafayette replied, not missing a beat. "I have said _non,_ and I meant it."

Pulling haughtily back, she motioned Lafayette to pass her, "as _vous_ decree... it is your _maison._ "

Groaning silently, he paused to look at his Grandmother, "that it is, and again, I regret you do not care for _m'_ thoughts regardin' activities here."

Watching his brother stiffly stride up the central stairs, Thaddeus thought, ' _qu'elle diable_ was that all 'bout?'

After Connor and Fox were motioned to go before them, Lorraine, at last, allowed Thaddeus to escort her up. " _Mes apologies,_ it was _mal_ manners to deride Lafe in such a fashion, especially before guests."

"I am positive he will survive."

Squeezing his arm, she whispered, "Seems I am not as prepared to hand him his birthright, as I supposed."

Unsure what would be the best answer, Thaddeus opted to only nod in agreement.

Once on the veranda, Lorraine turned to him. "I cannot cease thinking this, so I may as well impart it to _vous._ " She stroked his damp bangs from his eyes, "I just adore seeing _m' Grand-mère_ looking out from your face."

" _Qu'elle_?"

"All these years, and all the _bébés_ , and not until _vous_ and Eudora did her green eyes reappear."

Thaddeus tilted his head, his eyebrows rising.

"See, they, all the _esclaves_ , used to whisper of her..." Lorraine leaned in her voice, taking on a conspiratorial tone, "…having voodoo magic, and that was why her eyes were greener than the snake that corrupted Eden." She grinned like a young girl, "they were all respectfully scared of her, too. "

Thaddeus' single dimple creased his cheek, "You hear that, Lafe?"

Lorraine's eyes darted between her Grandson's, questioningly even as she asked, "hear _qu'elle_?"

"Back home, the question of how, only, Dora and I came to have green eyes was never far away from anyone's lips."

"So, I have solved a great mystery for you," She grinned, "those exquisite green eyes come from your Begnoir blood." She stroked the line of his face. "I arrived just days after the pair of _vous_ were born. Eudora was a _doux bébé,_ but _vous…_ so tiny, so fierce, and _vous_ wail was filled with determination. Caring for _vous,_ I began thinking along with _m'_ _Grand-mère_ Taddea's eyes, _vous_ had her strength. It was why I chose to name _vous_ after her _."_ Lorraine's eyes softened as she contemplated Thaddeus. "She had a terrible temper. Mostly, though _Grand-mère_ Tadiaha was brave, wise, and oh, so full of _amour,_ why she had a laugh that would fill a _chambre_. Shamefully, I know so little of _vous_ , it pains _moi_. Did I give _vous_ the correct _nom,_ _m' chéri_ Taddy?"

" _Grand-mère_ , you just described _moi_ closer than anyone ever has," he answered, flashing his crooked grin, his eyes slipping to the expansive spread of food covering the long table.

As if on cue, Lorraine laughed, taking a seat in the chair Lafayette pulled out for her.

Noticing Fox fidgeting near the veranda railing, Kathrine pointed to the chair opposite her, "Take a seat, Fox, you can tell me how they tricked you into manning a barge down those frightful rivers."

With a doting smile, Connor slipped into the chair nearest Katherine, "Hello, Lass."

"Oh, I have missed your company." She leaned closer, whispering, "Truthfully, I been finding myself feelin' quite jealous whenever Lafe steals you away."

Taking her hand, Connor gently squeezed it. "I be here now, and later we can stroll the garden, allowing ye to update me to all that has occurred."

Over the meal, they talked and laughed, coming together as a family. So, by the time they were enjoying _café_ and bananas foster, Lorraine said, "Fox, I am jubilant that you are here with us in our summer home."

"Why, thank ya, Ma'am."

"I am positive we can send _vous_ home with _magnifique_ memories of your time here. I have decided we shall hold a full-fledged Cajun barbeque in your _honneur_ and..." Lorraine's smile switched to Thaddeus on her left, "for _m'_ _petit fils_ arrival."

Fox looked at his plate and then back down the table to Lorraine, "Ma'am, it sounds like a person would hate to miss such a thing. Still, I gotta return home right away. My leaving was not planned, and I am sure my Ma is around the bend with me."

"That is a shame, yet I understand. Do know you will be missed here as much as I am sure your own _Mère_ is missing you even now."

Thaddeus cleared his throat, "Uhm, _Grand-mère_ , suppose this is as _bonne_ a time as any to let y'all know, I will be returnin' with Fox."

" _Mon fils..._ " her eyes widened, "Lafe, expressed how _vous_ would be stayin' on to care for your _chevals_."

Thaddeus meticulously folded his napkin, tucking it under the edge of his plate before looking up, and the room watched his every move. " _Grand-mère_ , _m'_ humblest apologies, however, Lafayette did not bother consultin' _moi_ first, and he has been speakin' out of the side of his mouth." His eyes flicked to his brother, "And he should be damned ashamed of himself."

Lorraine's face crumbled.

“Apologies for _m’_ language, _Grand-mère.”_

Biting her lower lip, she stood quickly, " _s'il vous plaît, excusez-moi,"_ and with a final tearful look to each of her grandsons, she rushed to her room.

" _Putain d'enfer_ , Taddy." Lafayette barked, shoving his chair back as he jumped up. " _Pardoner, m'_ words Katherine, Mikey."

" _Non_ , I feel likewise," Katharine said sharply, glaring at her little brother with the expression he most often related to his eldest sister.

" _Qu'elle?_!" Thaddeus yelped, staring back at his family. "I am goin' home. Y'all did not deem I would stay here; did you?"

With a hard snort, Lafayette threw his napkin on the table and strode toward the east staircase.

Rising from his chair, Thaddeus called, " _Feu de l'enfer_ , Lafe, talk to _moi_."

Stopping on the top step, Lafayette leaned on the hand railing, his face twisted, and the dimple pulsing in his left cheek, "Leave _moi_ be; anything I say now is goin' set us off in _putain_ brawl."


	81. Chapter SEVENTY-EIGHT

Chapter Seventy-Eight

**Wednesday 5 th September 1860**

Lafayette's gut churned like the river water rolling out from behind their boat. Except, he was not ill from the ride, but from his guilt over departing from _L'Eau Sucrée_ , with so little warning.

Taking a puff of his cigarillo, he thought, 'I meant what I told _Grand-mère_ 'bout returnin' and havin' the twins in tow. Despite what Taddy may think, being South is a far safer stompin' ground for 'em. Hell, Father, has as much told me so in his letters. Figured this feelin' would fade once we were on our way.' He rubbed at the back of his neck, 'I rightly did, as I was damn-well being truthful with her, but here I am still feelin' wretched.'

"You broodin' again?"

Not having heard his brother's approach, Lafayette jerked about; however, with a long sigh, he turned back to the water whispering by. "Bet the _filles_ are settin' Connor on edge."

"Doubt that. Connor enjoys his new life, and all that goes with it too much to be set on edge." Thaddeus said, winking at Fox, who had joined them to lean on the railing with the brothers. "Damnation, Lafe, you need to cease pickin' at it all and leave it be. You have turned into the frettingest, damn _bâtard_ , I know."

Lafayette winced, his eyes slanting to his brother, "I could say the same for you."

Setting his back to the railing, Thaddeus folded his arms across his chest.

" _Par Dieu,_ Taddy, I would bet that was the first batch of words you have strung together without injectin' something of the herd since we left _L'Eau Sucrée_. Way you go on, a person might get the idea you deem yourself the king stallion, leastways, I am frettin' over humankind."

Beneath the brim of his hat, Thaddeus' eyes narrowed, and Lafayette glared back, giving him as good as given.

Fox thought, 'these two been nippin' at each other like stray dogs, ever since we headed home.' He shook his head, and with a sigh, moved over, taking up a position between them. "When we all dock, I aim on ridin' straight on home. Not even gonna halt for a shot of rye, got me a hankerin' for Ma's cookin'."

Without replying, the brothers returned to leaning on the deck railing, avoiding each other by watching the landscape slide by.

'I reckon they all is headin' for a fistfight,' Fox thought, covertly studying the pair. 'Hope it happens on land, where there ain't no call for me to get involved.' Sighing again, Fox spat a stream of chaw, which earned him a quick, hard glare from Lafayette, as it had just missed him to land in the muddy water. Stifling a smile, he felt sure would have Lafayette chewing him up one side and down the other, Fox said. "After I get home, I will have Lucas bring Ebby on over to Sienna."

"I already done told you to keep 'em," Thaddeus replied.

"I ain't done nothing deservin' such a payment."

Lafayette barked, “ _Feu de l'enfer_ , if’n you ain't.”

"Nope, I was bein' neighborly." Fox shook his head, "been raised; it is wrong to accept payment for being neighborly."

Stepping back from the railing, Lafayette caught his brother's eye, who nodded for him to go ahead. Taking a breath, he put a hand on Fox's shoulder, "I rightly see your point. Acceptin' pay is just 'bout as rude as offerin' it. All be told, if'n you were not our neighbor…." Lafayette shook his head, "why we would fill your pockets with double-eagles for all the _bonne_ turns you have done us. Although, as you said, that would not be proper."

Fox nodded, his joker smile coming into play, "Exactly, so Lucas will bring Ebby back."

Thaddeus shook his head, grunting, " _non_."

Fox shot a look at Thaddeus.

Pointing toward his brother, Lafayette said, "Truth is, like Taddy, I am feelin' rubbed wrong by how casually you are turnin' down our gift."

Fox looked back and forth between the brothers, his arched brows drawing together.

Thaddeus nodded, "Fuckin' right, we ain't tryin' to pay you. _Jésus a pleuré_ that would be wrong. Why can you not understand Erebos Wind is our gift to a true _ami_?"

Fox's eyes shifted to the red gelding standing between Cain and Coffee.

"Sides Ebby has fuckin' taken to you. So, if'n Lucas shows up, we are only gonna send 'em and Ebby right on with 'em."

With a nod, Lafayette added, "So, how 'bout you not be wastin' your _petit frères_ time."

At the brothers matching sly, dimpled smiles, Fox released a barking laugh. "All right, blast it, y'all win. Thank you both kindly, I will keep 'em."

" _Par Dieu_ , Taddy, you ever figure givin' a _cheval_ away would be so difficult?"

"Some people are just fuckin' hard-headed, is all," Thaddeus replied, slapping Fox on the back.

Sniggering laughter drifted from Fox, "Y'all ain't ones, who should ever be pointin' out if'n a person is hard-headed. Not in all my days have I ever met anything as hellish, mule stubborn as y'all."

Releasing a soft snorting laugh, Thaddeus pulled out his pocket watch, "'bout time."

Fox's mouth twisted to the side.

Tucking his watch back in his pocket, Thaddeus said, "Lafe and I are unloadin' at Rupe's Landing, cutting across fields; it is closer to home."

"Conversely, Fox, Independence makes for less travel to your home," Lafayette put in, "but if'n you want, you are welcome to ride with us."

Fox's mouth puckered, and with a nod, he answered, "think I will dock at Independence."

Pulling his pal into a hug, Thaddeus said, "Again, _merci,_ and I will see you around, Cass."

"Not, if'n I see ya first."

Lafayette's tone turned serious as he extended his hand to Fox. "I know you are brushin' off travelin' South as only being neighborly, but I want you to know," he tilted his head toward his brother, "all of'n us Crowes appreciate your kindness, and we owe you."

Taking his hand, Fox replied, "if'n ya feel that way, I am callin' in my marker right now."

The corner of Lafayette's mouth twitched, and a laugh brayed from Fox. "Y'all ain't never to bring this up again." Fox's grin took over, "you keep your mouths shut on the subject, and we are even."

Releasing his hand, Lafayette answered, "it is a deal then."

Bumping against his brother, Thaddeus said, "We best be seein' to our mounts; Rupe's will be comin' up afore we know it."

Later, sitting in their saddles, the brothers waved farewell to Fox as the boat steamed back into the river, and as it pulled away, they turned their horses south.

Once clear of the small town, they broke into a run. The horse's combined hooves sounded like a distant rumbling freight train as they ran neck-and-neck with their manes and tails whipping in the wind. As they rounded a bend, Lafayette grinned over at his younger brother, and when he did, Thaddeus loosened the rein he had been holding tight.

With a toss of his head, Cain stretched out, leaving his stablemate behind… way behind.

The wind whistling in Thaddeus' ears also had his eyes streaming, and peering back under his arm, he saw Coffee had become a speck in their dust. Shifting his weight, he reeled the stallion in, "Whoa, Cain. Bring it on down. Whoa, _garçon._ "

When Coffee came loping up, Lafayette circled the big gray, staring wide-eyed at him. " _Jésus a pleuré,_ you left _moi_ behind like I was ridin' a plug mule."

"I saw that."

"I knew he was fast, but damnation," Lafayette replied, shaking his head with a twisted grin.

"I done told you, he bested Boreas down along the river."

"Yeah, but there were a lot of circumstances involved there." Lafayette shook his head again at Cain, walking smoothly alongside him. "Seems, he has also chosen to obey you."

"Obey, might be a bit strong, but we do have an understandin'."

Lafayette's smile grew until his eyes were sparkling. "Hot damn! We gotta get y'all down to Metairie; I wager y'all could best the top records. Can you imagine _qu'elle_ that would do for Sienna Stables, hell for the _famille_?"

Thaddeus' crooked grin expanded into a full smile. Then twice as fast, it fell away.

At his brother's quick change of mood, Lafayette's smile also faded with him thinking, 'damn, but I thought racin' Cain would be a _bonne_ gambit to encourage 'em to return with _moi.'_ Not wishing to start up the same dispute they had circled through repeatedly, Lafayette looked away.

For the rest of the morning, they rode in silence through the green hills, neither wanting to rile the other up. Besides, it was one of those days, which made a person want to be outside, one of those days when the birds sang so loud it seemed they were singing just for you.

As the sun rose to its zenith, they were riding peacefully along under a row of whispering cottonwoods with their horses wading through tall purple Blazing Stars, when Lafayette said, "I am lookin' forward to being home."

At his deep baritone, Thaddeus jumped so sharply; he startled Cain, so the stallion plunged to the left, both of which set Lafayette off in an ear-splitting round of laughter.

Soothing his horse, Thaddeus' glared over at his brother.

Which made it all the harder for Lafayette to shut down his laughter, " _Mes excuses_ , suppose I have been a bit lost in _m'_ thoughts."

" _Putain d'enfer_ , you ain't made a damn sound in hours, and I figured it would be best to leave you be, if'n you were feelin' that irritable."

Lafayette shrugged, "just thinkin' on being home and _qu'elle,_ I will say to Father."

"All this fuckin' time?"

"Yeah, all this time." Lafayette answered, his voice tight, "It ain't goin' to be _non_ social chat when he sees _moi_."

"Not too sure 'bout that."

"Why?"

"Deem, he is gettin' soft in his age." Thaddeus' replied, and pulling up; he studied the empty, open valley below.

"I do not know--"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

Lafayette arched a brow.

"Bout anything important."

" _Non_." Lafayette answered, "It is just… he will see _moi_ as abandonin' _m' devoirs,_ being insolent, puttin' _mon_ self at risk, and..." Lafayette sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Just been tryin' to work out _qu'elle_ all to say to 'em."

Releasing a bitter scoff, Thaddeus leaned toward his brother, "How 'bout you begin by tellin' _moi,_ fuckin' straight this time, why you came back."

Lafayette's left dimple began its dance.

"That how it is? _Chiant!_ You had it damn _bonne_ in _Louisiane_." Thaddeus snarled, waving to Lafayette's double-breasted silk brocade vest, swallow-tail frock coat, and black, flared crowned Coachman's hat. "Hell, it suited you. So, _qu'elle_ is keepin' you from informin' _moi,_ _qu'elle_ has you returnin' to the backwoods?"

Lafayette looked away.

"Do you even have a fuckin' reason, other than fuckin' hauntin' _moi_?!"

Lafayette snapped around, his face flushed red, and his dark eyes boring into his brother, as he huskily howled, " _Qu'elle_ other fuckin' reason do I need than Missouri is _m'_ fuckin' home!" Then, with a hate-filled snort, he sent Coffee plunging down the ridge on a twisting, deer trail. Bending and ducking, he fought his way to the valley, only to find the trees so snug up against the embankment, he had to search out an escape path. Once free, he stepped down, letting Coffee graze in the shade.

It was a good ten minutes before Thaddeus came riding up, as he had trotted down using a zigzagging, rutted wagon road. Stepping away from the tree he had been leaning against, Lafayette looked up at his brother, and it came to him how changed Thaddeus was. Not just how he had grown, but who he had become, and he thought, 'forever he has been a part of _m'_ shadow. Except, now it appears this year apart has separated us more than either of 'n us thought it would.' Laying a hand on Cain's neck, Lafayette forced out a tight smile, " _Tres desole, m'_ temper still gets the best of _moi._ "

Thaddeus' chipped tooth grin arose, "mine, too." Climbing down, he clamped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Sides, not sure I would know you without your temper."

Nodding, Lafayette walked off, and plucking a tall, strand of Seed Grass, he squatted, fiddling with it, " _m'_ temper is _qu'elle_ changed _m'_ life altogether."

Dropping to the ground next to him, Thaddeus dropped his hat beside him, and scratching at his scalp; he asked, "so, you cooled down enough to tell _moi_ why you came back?"


	82. Chapter SEVENTY-NINE

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Silence drug out as Lafayette twisted the long strand of grass about his index finger.

Studying him, Thaddeus lightly asked, "Lafe?"

Dropping the mangled grass, Lafayette turned his face to his brother, and the level of pain showing there shocked Thaddeus so, he averted his eyes. Swallowing, he quietly said, "I only ask 'cause I _amour_ you, and _it is_ damn risky for you to be here and all."

Sighing long and low, Lafayette removed his hat, walking the curled brim through his fingers. "After _m' melee_ at the Barnetts, I was rushed out of the State like a wasp from a room. Did not get to tell anyone, other than our _famille au revoir,_ even then not Gabe, Brody, or Jackson. Just do not like the way I left."

"I understand, _Frère._ 'Ceptin' I know you well enough, to know, you would not abandon your _devoirs_ for that alone."

Setting his hat down, Lafayette studied the outline of the oak's leaves against the blue sky. "As I said, it all happened so fast… _non au revoirs,_ not able to state _m'_ position, and I broke a _promesse._ "

"Not to _moi._ You _promessed_ to return if'n I required your assistance," Thaddeus paused, then quickly said, "I ain't needed you."

With a shake of his head, Lafayette softly replied, "I know." Dropping back in the grass, he closed his eyes, "Course, I also thought… you and Dora would travel back with _moi_."

"We done been over that," Thaddeus said, thinking to say more, but the range of emotions he had been seeing play across Lafayette's face changed his mind, and lying back, he laced his fingers behind his head.

"Earlier, you were correct. . . _Louisiane_ does suit _moi_. There are _m'_ law classes at Tulane, the challenge of seein' to the Estates, and now there is all I can accomplish with _my_ own properties." Tilting his head back, he studied the upside-down rows of Hickory and Pin Oak trees lined up thick as a cornrow along the ridge.

"So, even though that damned O'Rourke wants to put your neck in a noose, you felt being able to leave on your own terms and draggin' Dora and I South were _bonne_ enough _raisons_ to return."

" _Non,_ there is another," Lafayette answered, watching a trio of pale blue skipper moths dart from grass stem to grass stem.

"You figurin' to tell _moi,_ or do I have to piss you off again, so you shout out your thoughts."

"Do not recall us quarrelin' so much…" The corner of Lafayette's mouth crooked back, and he turned his head to study his younger brother, "…not like we have been."

Thaddeus sighed. It was a soft, faded sound like turning the pages of a Bible, "Suppose 'tween _m'_ time down with ague, and your time in _Louisiane_ , we have grown into different men."

"Was thinkin' that when you rode up, earlier." Lafayette licked his lower lip, "told _mon_ self; I was over-examinin' a situation, yet again. Been tryin' to believe that, 'cause I never dreamt we _duex_ could grow apart."

Feeling like life was being squeezed out of him, Thaddeus muttered, "Neither did I, Lafe, neither did I."

Propping himself up on an elbow, Lafayette firmly said, "I feel the same, Taddy, if'n you _ever_ need _moi_ for anything, I am here for you. You know that do you not?"

"I do. But see, that is some of the difference between us." Thaddeus closed his eyes, "that night afore you left when we talked during the storm, I kept thinkin' how I had _jamais_ been without you." He swallowed hard, "I was fuckin' scared. Then you left, and life went on. Since then, I have seen so much, been in battles, killed men. . . the fear I had back then, hell it ain't nothing compared to what I have done since. See, I no longer need you to rescue _moi._ " Hearing a soft 'oh' escape from his brother, Thaddeus frowned. "I ain't sayin'; I no longer need you, _Gran Frère._ I _toujours_ will, just not to rescue _moi_." Opening his eyes, Thaddeus saw his brother's poker mask was firmly in place. "Also, while we been layin' here, I done sussed out why else you came back."

Lafayette flatly replied, "You did?"

"To see Mams."

A rush of guilt burned through Lafayette as it was not her that had drawn him back, and knowing this, he dug up a smile, saying, "Well, I have missed her."

Sitting up quickly, Thaddeus crisscrossed his legs and propping his elbows on his knees; he nearly shouted, "Sumbitch, I knew it! You are still holdin' something back; I just heard it in your voice."

"You _toujours_ been the only _une_ who can read _moi._ "

Thaddeus grinned back.

And, with a nod, Lafayette said, "Never did get a chance to tell you much 'bout Barnett's picnic."

"Done heard from everyone how you beat the livin' hell out of that fuckin' Yank."

Shifting to his side, Lafayette slipped his forearm beneath his head. "Yeah, that I did, but before that…" He grinned, his eyes brightening, "I spent the whole day with this _fille._ She was not all frippery and fool's lies like others. She was so straight-speakin', and we talked like we had known each other all our days. She reminded _moi_ of Jo except without her sharp edges and selfish ways." He chuckled, smiling broadly, "she had spirit, it shone in her eyes. . . eyes that shifted colors with her mood. And I can still hear her laughter--" He sucked in his lips, falling silent.

When he said no more, Thaddeus poked him, "go on."

"Down South, _Grand-mère_ paraded a steady line of _filles_ before _moi; feu de l'enfer,_ even the daughter of the Governor. She aspires to attach our Begnoir _nom_ to another prominent _famille_. But Taddy, not _une_ of 'em ever shone brighter in _m'_ eyes than that Missouri farmer's daughter."

" _Qu'elle?_ "

A grin, Thaddeus thought could possibly be awkward timidness, appeared on his brother's face. However, it was so unlike Lafayette; he was not sure. "So, who is this _fille?_ "

"Celia," Lafayette answered, swatting at a mosquito. "Celia Aine Sheldon of Cedar County."

"You came back for 'er?"

Lafayette nodded.

"A _fille_ you got to know for _une_ damn day over a year ago brought you back?"

Lafayette nodded

"You are mad as a meat ax."

Hanging his head, Lafayette shrugged. "Taddy, all I know is there is this ache inside of _moi,_ been there since I left 'er side, and ain't nothing I do that makes it fade."

" _Putain d'enfer,_ you just need to visit a brothel, is all."

A snorting laugh escaped Lafayette, "done that, plenty of 'em, and I still ache." He laid a hand across the center of his chest, "right here; I feel hollow."

Thaddeus' gaze shifted to their grazing horses, "So, your tellin' _moi. . ."_ His green eyes riveted back on his brother, ". . . the entire reason you returned is to see if'n Celia Sheldon would want you?"

Sitting up, Lafayette wrapped his arms about his bent legs, "you are the first I have told."

"Fucks Sake are you plannin' to ask her to marry you…. YOU!"

Lafayette pressed his forehead to his knees.

"A _fille,_ you knew _une_ fuckin' day?!"

Barely above a whisper, Lafayette answered, "she is who I want."

"This has to be the most insane notion I ever damn-well, fuckin' heard."

Shifting to stand, Lafayette said, " _Merci_ , _Frère_ ," his voice spiking a bit in self-defense, "pleased to know _vous_ are here for _moi._ "

Thaddeus' left hand darted out, locking hold of his brother's arm. "Stay."

Lafayette sat rigid as stone, pain, fear, and longing evident on his face.

Swallowing hard and realizing he still held his brother's arm, Thaddeus squeezed it. "I am _toujours_ here for you."

Lafayette sarcastically replied, "Except for when I have damn-well, fuckin' insane notions."

"Especially when you got damn-well, fuckin' insane notions," Thaddeus answered, his grin taking over. "You are damn certain; it is she?"

" _Oui,_ it has been a whole year, and I cannot shake how she made _moi_ feel." A smile traced across Lafayette's mouth and disappeared. " _Feu de l'enfer,_ if'n this is how you react. How will she?"

Patting his brother on his back, Thaddeus stood. "It does not matter," he extended a hand, "come on, get up. We need to visit Sienna, and then go search Cedar County."

Lafayette stared at the offered hand.

“Take _m’_ damn hand, _Frère_ , if’n you _amour_ ‘er, I will damn-well help you find ‘er.”

"But you have made it clear that you think I am completely mad."

" _Qu'elle_ is new there; you been that way all our lives." Thaddeus winked, "come on."

The dimpled smile slowly appeared and taking hold; Lafayette climbed to his feet.

"So, Sienna, and then we ride south to Cedar."

Lafayette shook his head, "Sienna, then Harrisonville, we need to pay a visit to the Youngers."

"All right, but why?"

"Celia is a distant cousin, figure _Madame_ Bursheba can point us in the right direction."

"Well, hell, that should make findin' her a whole lot easier."

Whistling for Coffee, Lafayette chuckled, "it will be 'bout all that is easy; I still do not know how to ask 'er."

"Mams swears you can charm St. Peter into lettin' Lucifer through the gate, so I am fuckin' positive, you can charm a _fille_ into takin' your _nom._ "

"You ain't met, Celia."

Swinging aboard Cain, Thaddeus chuckled, "but I will soon enough, _Frère._ I will soon enough."

Still wearing a delighted dimpled smile, Lafayette turned Coffee aiming to angle across the valley's expansive sunny meadow when Thaddeus barked, "Rein in!"

Startled, he swung to his brother, whose bright green eyes were scanning all about them. Doing the same, Lafayette said, "I do not see anyone."

"Where you lookin'?"

Lafayette's face scrunched, his gaze returning to the open meadow dotted with wildflowers and then to the dark shadows up under the trees surrounding it.

Thaddeus grunted, "look in between."

" _Qu'elle_?"

"Something Gabe taught _moi_." Thaddeus reined Cain closer to Coffee, pointing left and right of them with his index finger. "You see how I have us halted, right where the shade of these trees falls on the edge of the sunlight?"

Lafayette nodded.

"If'n you remain still, along this line, others will tend to look beyond into the deeper shade, not noticing this divider edge…" He glanced at Lafayette, "just like you did."

Lafayette frowned, digesting this new skill.

"I thought I saw something…" Thaddeus pointed straight across the field, ". . . there."

Lafayette swept the area again. Doing this time as Thaddeus described, and finding it challenging to keep his eyes on that meeting line, he thought, 'I see now how this is _bonne_ spot to remain hidden.'

After a moment, Thaddeus said, "Might of just been a deer. Still, I judge we should circle round, keeping tucked up in the shadows."

Knowing how much longer this route would take, Lafayette's mouth flattened into a white line. Yet, before speaking out, he recalled Thaddeus' early declaration of all he had seen; and instead, fell in behind Cain to follow his brother.

Although he did feel the justification of being right for riding the valley's perimeter had taken much longer; also, while they had done so, the beautiful morning developed into a sticky, blistering afternoon.

" _Dieu_ , it is stiflin' hot." Thaddeus complained, for at least the fifth time in an hour, "feels like we are back in _Louisiane_."

"It is hotter, non, thicker," Lafayette grumbled, shifting in his saddle, his sweaty pants sticking to the leather. Taking off his hat, he untied his hair, regathering it into a neat tail that he twisted up into a knot, so its heaviness no longer blanketed him.

Watching him do so, Thaddeus chuckled, "Mams is goin' to lop that tail off, first chance she has."

" _Non_ , she ain't," Lafayette answered, "took me over a year to get it this long."

" _Qu'elle_ you think is goin' to stop her?"

" _Moi_ ," Lafayette replied firmly, tapping his hat back on.

"You want to place a wager?"

Lafayette answered, " _non_ ," too quickly, and Thaddeus' snide laughter had him barking, " _ferme ta gueule_!"

"Hell, I might 'en hold you down for 'er, be worth it to see your reaction."

"I would like to see you try, _Petit_ _Frère_."

A hard edge came into Thaddeus' voice, "I am _bonne_ sight stronger than you deem."

"Only funnin' Taddy, _non_ _raison_ to build up a head of steam."

With a grunt, Thaddeus shifted his eyes to the far horizon. " _Zut_! Looks to be a storm line buildin'." He pointed to a thunderhead rising and spreading across the sky.

Lafayette scrutinized the billowing clouds, churning in an array of dark blues and grays. "Hope we make it home afore it tears loose."

"Do not know, _Gran Frère_ ; a little rainwater might do you _bonne_."

"This trip ain't turned you into _non_ rose either." Lafayette snapped back, but his ire broke into laughter, as he thought, 'ain't _non raison_ to be so irritable; ain't I happy to be home? To be back here…riding Coffee through these green hills with Taddy. Even better, he is goin' to aid _moi_ in findin' Celia Aine. _Non_ , I ain't got anything to feel proddy over.' When he spoke back up, his voice was filled with warmth, "Hey, Taddy, rain or _non_ rain, soon we will be at Sienna; famille, baths, _dîner_ , hard lemonade on the front veranda." He threw his brother a boisterous smile, " _Doux Jésus_ , it is _bonne_ to be home. I have missed the hell out of everyone and everything."

"Then let us get a move on," Thaddeus replied, gigging Cain into a faster trot.

As they drew closer to home, each field, hill, and stretch of road felt like an old friend pushing Lafayette's excitement to a point; he had to restrain himself from outright racing Coffee over the last few remaining miles. Repeatedly his eyes went to the far horizon, and after a bit, he called to Thaddeus, "hey, that area. . ." Lafayette waved an arm, "over toward home, it seem darker to you than the rest?"

"Oui," Thaddeus answered, his face becoming greenish. "You think it is a twister?"

Even as he said this, a cold downdraft ripped across the road they were riding along, battering them, as it flattened the rugged Bluestem Grass to the ground, the tree limbs creaking under the force of the wind. But rather than carrying with it the rich earthy smell that comes before the rain, the wind carried smoke. Not merely a trace or hint that would prick a person's attention. It was saturated with the potent rank bite of smoke.

Spinning Coffee in a circle, fear pinching tight along his back, Lafayette shouted over the wind. "You smell that?"

Thaddeus swallowed hard, nodding, and the brothers slammed their heels to their horses.

The animals took off with Coffee pounding the dirt for all he was worth to keep Cain in sight. Above them, the sky above roared like the devil's freight train was passing, wind ripped at their clothes, and still, the stench of smoke-filled their nostrils.

The horses were blowing hard when they came barreling up the road that passed near Sienna's upper ridge.

Thaddeus pulled Cain in so severely, the stallion reared, his feet pawing the air with a scream. However, Thaddeus did not notice, in the least bit, as he was staring horrified at the valley below, where fire was devouring Sienna.


	83. Chapter Eighty

Chapter Eighty

Below was a tableau of nightmares, scorching flames stretched to a midnight azure sky from the once massive wood and stone barn, even as more delicate, glittering flames arched like dancers from the shattered windows of the house.

A ragged wail ripped from Thaddeus as he debated taking the road that meandered along the ridgeline to the front gate or attempting a more direct route down to the valley…to their home.

While he was deciding, Lafayette flew past, aiming Coffee straight down the treacherous, breakneck ridge before Cain.

Slamming down his heels, Thaddeus sent Cain over the edge after Coffee, who was sliding down the slippery slope. Cain bounced down stiff-legged, his hooves causing shale scree to cascade down on Coffee and Lafayette.

But not for long as Coffee had leapt from the steep ridge into the green pasture. Yet, it would not remain so for long as the fire was crawling toward them, consuming a stream of yellow-eyed White Fleabane; the flowers shriveling before its grasp.

Coffee snorted, a shudder running through the big bay that shook his tack and rider, and he balked, backing up. Gripping low on his rein, Lafayette spun the gelding in three quick circles, and with a hard kick, aimed the horse once more at the crawling fire at a gallop. In a few long strides, he had Coffee knee-deep in the brook that angled across the entire property.

A scream stretched out through the smoky air, high and shrill, like what one might imagine a child's death screech would be.

Jerking in his saddle, Lafayette searched for the scream, and a second one tore from the young stallion. His eyes shot to the ridge, where Cain was locked up solid, his eyes rolling white. The difficulty was the shale ridge was disintegrating, and soon Cain and Thaddeus would come crashing down in a mangled heap. Grinding his teeth, Lafayette threw another look toward their home, even as he spun back to help.

Thaddeus bellowed, "fuckin' move!"

Lafayette heard the words clearly as if there was no other sound to hear. Then in horror, he watched as his younger brother pull his Remington, firing it so close to Cain's head, Lafayette felt sure it must have singed the animal.

The stallion violently shook its head like he was trying to dislodge a hornet, and an avalanche of clay and rock rumbled down the ridge, the pair sliding along with it. Cain splay his front legs across the crumbling ground, holding his ground and Thaddeus bellowed, even louder, "Zut, Cain! Fuckin' move!" Pounding his legs into the horse's sides, he fired again. Cain took flight as sudden as a grasshopper at the boom of the pistol, the bit of ground he had been standing on altogether disappearing.

In bucking leaps, the pair plunged the rest of the way down, to race by Lafayette, with Thaddeus bent over Cain's neck, laying his long reins back and forth across the gray's rump.

Chasing after them, the thought, 'he _vraiment_ does not need _moi_ to rescue 'em,' flashed across Lafayette's mind. Swinging his rein ends across Coffee's rump, Lafayette chased recklessly after them into the acrid smoke, with crackling flames clawing at their legs.

Lightning ripped the sky apart with deafening cracks of thunder following on its tail, and they leapt through the line of fire. The ground before them was still smoking, white rocks gleaming from the char like old, polished bones.

Veering around the burning barn, Lafayette hauled Coffee up so hard the gelding nearly sat down. Before the horse had gathered himself, Lafayette was on the ground running to a body lying in the stable yard. "Peter, _non,_ Peter!" Tearing off his frock coat, he used it to smother the flames on Peter's legs. Rolling him over, Lafayette gasped.

The man he considered a second Father was beaten beyond recognition. A rifled butt had caved in half his face and skull with Peter's one remaining eye, milky blue with death, staring up.

A carnal howl ripped from Lafayette as he fell back. The howling wind carried Thaddeus' curses to him. They were short, simple, and filled with the same pain that crowded his chest. Lunging to his feet, Lafayette charged up the drive, his boots slipping on the white chat, to where his brother had jumped from Cain.

A crack of thunder made the ground shudder, and Cain skittered Lafayette's way, his reins whipping wildly as he swerved, bolting away.

Throwing himself clear of the stallion, Lafayette crashed to his knees, and a bit more than an arm's reach away, Thaddeus knelt over a pair of bodies, gripping them tightly. When he crawled forward, Thaddeus whirled his Remington in his hand with the single clack of the hammer ratcheting back, sounding remarkably loud.

Lafayette bellowed, "Taddy!"

Blood smeared the side of Thaddeus' face from where he had pressed his ear to Webster and Gabriel's chests. He took heaving panting breathes, his eyes deranged like a caged animal, and then he hurled himself to his feet, running on, screaming for Eudora.

Lafayette edged closer to the bullet-riddled bodies. His eyes tracking from them to the numerous crimson pools on the drive, he thought, 'Gabe and Web got a few of the _bâtards._ ' He shuddered, feeling cold. All around him appeared to be spinning, and as it spun, a wrenching scream circled, elevating louder and louder. Twisting, he searched for the sound when a corner of his mind barked, 'It is you. You are the one screaming.' Wrapping his arms about his ribs, Lafayette squeezed tight, tears running from his face.

Spotting a pistol beneath Gabriel's thigh, he snagged hold of it, not even realizing he was doing so until the cold metal was in his hand. Flipping the gate, he saw the cylinders were empty. 'How many were there?'

With a reverberating boom, a plume of fire exploded from the house, and a section crumbled. The explosions concussion shook Lafayette from the delirium he was drowning in, and flinging the empty revolver away, he stood. Taking one long steady breath, he released it, pulling his own pistol, an exclusive model LeMat, Jonathon had gifted him at Christmas. His gaze drifted from the LeMat to Webster and Gabriel to the fire erupting from Sienna's Great House. He began running, thinking, 'I must catch Taddy and find the others.'

Waves of heat rolled from the house, clawing orange and blue flames reaching through the broken glass of the windows. As he neared, he saw their Father, and throwing up an arm to protect his face, Lafayette raced up the front steps, taking them three at a time.

Antonio was near one of the large porch columns, a charred noose trailing from his neck. Peering up, Lafayette made out how his father had been hanging from the veranda railing. The fire had burned through the rope, releasing to smash twisted and broken along the front steps.

Lafayette brushed his fingertips down his Father's staring eyes with a shuddering gasp, closing them forever. Backing down the steps, he threw back his head, screaming "FUCK!" the word detonating from him like a dynamite blast, and spinning, he fired the LeMat, wishing there were someone, anyone he could kill. The heavy revolver barked again and again until it clacked empty and sagging to the ground with a guttural cry, Lafayette slammed his hands against the hard, stone steps. 'All of 'em... Peter, Gabe, Web, Father... all 'em gone." And, just like Thaddeus had experienced at the Starks, Lafayette's stomach twisted sideways, everything from deep inside gushing out.

As he retched and his screams no longer filled the air, he could hear Thaddeus' baritone, strained and ragged, calling for Eudora. Wiping a sleeve across his mouth, Lafayette stood, his black eyes a terrible sight to behold as his rage rose.

His 'red demon' was free, burning his insides hotter than the flames consuming Sienna. Closing his eyes, he rocked in place, his face becoming impassive except for the deeply pitted dimple moving in his left cheek. Opening his black, black eyes, he calmly said, "I must find the _filles._ "

Striding around the house, Lafayette searched left and right for a clue. Spying the latch off the cold storage cellar. He paused and, swallowing hard, knelt by the door. "Mams? Eudora?"

There was a shuffle of movement.

"It is Lafe." He gripped the door handle, preparing to open it.

A frightened voice issued from beneath the door, "You best get. I got me a revolver, and I will not blink about usin' it if that door even cracks. You go on, get away from here!"

"Mams, it is Lafayette Henri."

" _Mon_ Lafayette not be here, _bénis les Saints,_ and I swear, you open that door, I will kill you deader than a side of hangin' beef."

Gripping the handle tighter, Lafayette pleaded, " _Mère, c'est me, votre fils, Lafayette Henri_ _ **[1]**_ _._ Now, I am goin' to open this door, _s'il vous plaît,_ do not shoot _moi_."

There was a metallic clatter, " _Garçon,_ it be truly you?"

" _Oui."_ He answered, swinging the door open. His eyes dropped to the revolver lying on the bottom step, then to Mams with the others behind her. " _Merci Dieu!"_ he cried, and turning, he bellowed, "TADDY! I found 'em."

Simone leaned against the stairwell wall, "How did _vous_ come to be here?"

Lafayette hollered again, "Thaddeus Robert. . . I found 'em!"

Careening about the back corner of the house, Thaddeus hollered, "I never considered the cellar." Sliding to a stop, he laid a grateful hand on Lafayette's back, "I was checkin' the slave cabins." Then he saw why his brother stood frozen with one foot still on the top step.

At the bottom of the cellar, lying in the gray-green square of storm-light was Eudora, her dress scarlet from blood.

"Dora!" Thaddeus gulped, shoving past Lafayette to tumble down the steep steps.

Lafayette followed, much slower, noting Marie curled against the far wall, even as he also knelt by his far too pale sister.

Eudora's lashes fluttered, confusion shrouding her green eyes when abruptly they flew wide, and she wailed. " _Non_! Not them, not them. _Non_!"

Simone rushed to her, "Hush, _bébé,_ " she crooned, stroking her hair. "Hush."

"I see Lafe and..." a pitiable sound escaped her, "and... Taddy. They must be dead; why else could I see them?"

"Sis, _non..._ " Thaddeus kissed her. "We are here." He said, his tears wetting Eudora's face.

"Oh, Taddy…it is you." She reached up, feeling his neck and face. "You are _vraiment_ here."

He nodded, gathering her into his arms. But, when he did, a heart-rending screech peeled from her. Horrified, he recoiled, bouncing into Lafayette.

Lafayette stabilized Thaddeus and, leaning forward, gently caressed Eudora's cheek, "Oh, _bébé fille."_

Her shining eyes met Lafayette's, and she latched hold of his hand. Moving it to her lips, she kissed his palm. " _Au revoir_ , Lafe."

His whole body convulsed, tears sliding in straight lines from his gray face, " _m' Chérie,_ do not speak so."

Her eyes slid closed, she breathed out, and with great effort opened them again, "You take care of 'em, Lafe."

"I will."

"You swear, Lafayette Henri, you swear to _moi_."

"I swear. I swear."

She nodded, kissing his palm again, her eyes drifting to her twin.

Bending, Lafayette kissed her, tasting salty sweat on her brow, " _Je_ _t'aime,_ Eudora Lorraine," he whispered, "'till we meet again," feeling his throat might collapse from the pain building there. With a tight nod, he scooted back, leaving the twins alone.

"Taddy?"

Through sniffling sobs, Thaddeus answered, "I am here, Dora."

"I am so cold."

Stretching out on the stone floor, he cautiously wrapped himself about her, and when she turned her head, they were nose-to-nose. A warm, wetness was soaking into his clothes, and Thaddeus thought, ' _par Dieu_ , it is her blood. Why can it not be mine?'

She smiled, with unending love into his tortured face, and ever slowly, she reached out, cupping her hand to his cheek. "Hush, now, Taddy. It do not hurt _non_ more, long as I do not move, it do not hurt."

He nodded. " _Qu'elle_ will I do without you?"

"You will live a fine life."

He shook his head, a choking sound coming from him.

She snapped, "you will because I want you to."

A tear-filled gag racked its way out of Thaddeus, and moving in close, Simone stroked his back.

"I want you to have a _bonne_ life, Taddy. You live it for both of'n us, and I will be waitin' for you, but I do not want to be seein' you anytime soon."

" _Je_ _t'aime._ "

A shudder ran through her, and she took a jagged breath. " _Je_ _t'aime_ , and I want you to be _bonne_ , brave, and careful. Make sure you enjoy life and laugh . . .. do it for _moi_."

"I will try."

With a hint of her old stubbornness, she snarled, "Try hard!"

He grinned a bit, swallowing some of his tears.

"Hush, now, hush," she stroked his cheek. "I am here with you, and I ain't scared anymore. You do not be either."

Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered, "I do not want to be alone."

"You are not. You got Lafe, and he needs you."

"But, Eudora Lorraine, I need you."

A painful, constricted sound came from her, causing her to convulse, and her breathing grew heavier. "We will be together again, _m'_ twin. I go to meet _Mère_."

" _Non…_ do not go."

" _Je t'aime._ " she gasped, her eyes opening wider. Then with a whispering exhale of air that brushed across his face, she left him.

Desperately Thaddeus pulled her to him, howling, " _non_! Dora, _non_!"

Inhaling deeply, Lafayette threw his head back, and through the cellar door, he stared into a dark blue sky streaked with shafts of turquoise. Closing his eyes to it, he inhaled deeper and deeper... each breath feeding his rage.

" _Mon bébés_." Simone cried, stroking each twin's face as she awkwardly bent to kiss them. " _Mon doux_ _bébés,_ watch over 'em Ava Marie, _s’il vous plaît_."

Moving in close, Lafayette wrapped them in his arms, their suffocating, gasping sounds of grief engulfing him. While outside, the fire crackled and popped, devouring all he knew, and inside, his rage dug at his gut like bad food devouring his decency, darkening his heart.

Suddenly Thaddeus pulled himself free. Lurching to his feet, he stared dazedly at the well-stocked cellar shelves, the light from the one lantern making the jars sparkle like deep, hued gems. Then his eyes came back to Eudora, and with a roar, he bolted, careening against Lafayette, knocking his shins on the stairs; he clambered on up them.

After watching him go, Lafayette turned to Simone and thought, 'why she has been beaten, and her arm is broken.' He grimaced, reaching for her even as he reproached himself, 'I should have been here to protect her; all of 'em.' Softly, he gripped her uninjured shoulder, "Mams?"

Unhurriedly, her golden eyes turned from the stairs to his face. "What are _deux_ doing here, _Chéri_?"

"We returned home," was all he could think to say.

"Ah _Chéri,_ I was so thankful you were both safe at _L’Eau Sucrée_."

Tenderly, Lafayette took her in his arms, whispering into her hair, "we are here now."

Simone collapsed into him, and together they stood listening to the harrowing sound of Thaddeus' grief swirling down to him. When at length, Thaddeus' screams turned to curses, Lafayette released Simone, and unfolding his legs, he slowly stood.

Touching her fingers to the back of his hand, Simone raised eyes that were pools of pain and sorrow to him. " _Mon_ Taddy _garçon_ be hurtin' worse than an injured animal. You be wary of him, _m' fils_."

Lafayette nodded in reply as his throat was too tight to even consider pushing words from it. Dragging his feet up the stairs, he thought how his boots felt like they were weighted with dried clay and emerging from the cellar; he marveled how good the moist air felt on his face. Behind the house, he could hear Thaddeus cursing everything from himself to the Jayhawkers to God, and the way he was condemning himself was most disturbing. As Lafayette listened, the heavens opened, drenching him in a cold rain.

Shutting the cellar door, he lifted his face to the storm, listening to the fire hiss as the rain touched it. He smiled bitterly, flatly, thinking, 'This pain is so deep it feels like it is rending _moi_ apart.' Then it came to him, 'Taddy has fallen silent.'

Running his hands back over his face, he headed for the rear of the house, where he found Thaddeus standing in the center of the outdoor kitchen. He was leaning on a table with his head hanging low, his shoulders heaving in time with his puffing breaths. Around him, tables were flipped, benches broken, pots scattered like a twister had invaded this area alone. Drawing closer, Lafayette forced the muscles of his throat to loosen enough to choke out, "Taddy."

Thaddeus spun, the barrel of his Remington once more reaching for Lafayette like a gleaming, accusing finger.

They stared bewildered at each other. Then closing his eyes, Thaddeus turned the nickel-plated barrel toward himself.

Lafayette sprung, flattening his brother to the ground as flame bloomed from the Remington. The sound of it so close, it rang in their ears, and sharp shards of brick peppered when the bullet embedded itself in the patio's floor. Jamming his knee against Thaddeus' chest, Lafayette captured his brother's flailing left hand.

"Let fuckin' go of _moi_. Let me be with her, Lafe. We have _toujours_ been together... _toujours_!"

Lafayette slammed Thaddeus' hand on the ground, again and again, until the Remington dropped from his grip, and snatching it, he flung it from them.

With a savage roar, Thaddeus bucked free, but before he made it to his feet, Lafayette dived, encircling him from behind, crushing his brother to him.

"Let _moi_ go! Fuckin', let _moi_ go!" Thaddeus cried, straining, twisting, struggling, but he was no match for the iron grip Lafayette held him in. All at once, the fight left Thaddeus, and he sagged sobbing, each sob sounding as if it were scraping a piece of his soul free.

Holding him tight, Lafayette rocked his brother, his own heart pounding as if it might break out of his chest. With each pound, the curses Thaddeus had been screaming echoed through Lafayette.

Through it, all the storm howled about them. The rain becoming a pounding deluge and shifting, Lafayette shielded his little brother. When the rain eased, little by little, he released his hold on Thaddeus.

Instead of pulling away, Thaddeus turned, hugging him. "I hurt so bad, Lafe. I cannot do this. They... killed her. They took her from _moi._ " A tremor ran through Thaddeus that shook Lafayette to his core. "I cannot do this, Lafe. I feel like... I have been torn open and that when I look down, I should see blood oozing from _moi_ as it was from her."

Placing his chin atop Thaddeus' head, Lafayette cradled him close. The storm blowing on, leaving them alone with the burned, broken ruins of their home looming tall over the brothers. They stayed as they were, wrapped together as one, and with a hard gulp, Thaddeus whispered, " _s'il vous plaît_ , Lafe, I want to close _m'_ eyes and die, to be with her."

" _Non_!" Lafayette roared, shooting to his feet, yanking Thaddeus with him. " _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ , _non_!" he hollered, shaking Thaddeus so hard his head bobbed back-and-forth. "That ain't a choice! You lyin' down and dyin' ain't even on the table. Hell, doin' so is dishonoring Dora's wishes."

Thaddeus allowed himself to be shaken for a time, then suddenly, as it had left him, his will returned. He stiffened, twisting out of Lafayette's grip.

The setting sun appeared from behind a dispersing rain cloud, highlighting the twisted, tight contours of Lafayette's face, as he leaned toward Thaddeus, saying with precise, cold firmness. "We will find 'em, Taddy. We will make them pay. We will introduce this world to a _nouveau_ version of justice like they ain't never seen. And Dora was correct; I do need you." Clasping hold of his brother's face, Lafayette looked him in the eyes.

Looking back, Thaddeus thought, 'it is as if the darkness of hell has invaded _m'_ laughin' brother.'

"Taddy, I need you! I need you by _m'_ side to make these _bâtards_ pay for what they have fuckin' done. Are you goin' to stand with _moi_?"

Thaddeus nodded.

Lafayette's eyes scanned away, his face taking on a skittish look he had long ago outgrown. "You will not leave _moi…_ alone? _S'il vous plaît_ , Taddy, do not ever leave _moi_."

For that one broken moment, Thaddeus felt he could see straight into his elder brother's soul. What he saw was; Lafayette was just as young and scared as he was. Plunging forward, Thaddeus wrapped his arms about him, "I am all right now, Lafe. I swear, I am, and I will not leave you. Not fuckin' ever! We will show 'em how to play their game, and, _par Dieu_ , we will make them pay. Right smart, we fuckin' will."

[1]. Mother it is I, your son, Lafayette Henri


	84. Chapter EIGHTY-ONE

Chapter Eighty-One

Searching for the ladies, Lafayette cut through the rose garden toward the back of the house. Noticing the latch off the cold storage cellar, he halted before it. Kneeling by the door, he called, "Mams? Eudora?"

There was a shuffle of movement.

He gripped the door's handle, preparing to open it, and a tight, frightened voice called out, "You best get. I got me a pistol, and I will not blink about usin' it if'n that door even cracks. You go on, get away from here!"

He took a shuddering breath, "Mams, it is Lafayette Henri."

" _Mon_ Lafe, not be here." Mams voice ceased to waver, " _Bénis les Saints,_ he ain't here, and I swear, you open that door, I will kill you deader than a side of hangin' beef."

"Mams, it is Lafe, and _je t'aime_ , _m’_ _Mère._ So, _s'il vous plaît,_ do not shoot _moi,_ cause I am fixin’ to open this door."

From below, there was a metallic clatter, " _Garçon,_ it is truly you?"

" _Oui."_ He answered, swinging the door open, and his eyes fell to the pistol lying on the bottom step, then to Mams with the others behind her. Inhaling, he released a grateful, quaky smile, " _Merci Dieu!"_ Turning, he bellowed, "TADDY! I found 'em."

"How?" Simone cried, letting herself lean against the stairwell wall, "How did you come to be here?"

Lafayette looked to her and then hollered out into the yard again, "Thaddeus Robert. . . I found 'em!"

“And you brought Taddy. Oh, _mon_ _garçon._ ”

Sprinting up from the bath and rock house, Thaddeus shouted, "did not consider the cellar." He crashed into Lafayette, clasping him in a grateful hug. "I had done checked the slave cabins, and..." He stared at Lafayette, staring down into the cellar, and turned slowly, his teeth dragging across his lower lip, _"non…non…"_

The clouds had parted, releasing down heavens beams of yellow-green storm light that illuminated the bottom of the cellar, where Eudora lay, her dress a vibrant, wet scarlet.

"Dora!" Thaddeus gulped, " _non,_ Dora…" shoving past his brother; he tumbled down the steep steps.

Following, Lafayette's boots scraped slowly on each step; as he reached the bottom, he noticed Marie curled against the far wall. Kneeling next to Thaddeus, he gripped tight of his shoulder, their shadows falling across their far too pale sister.

"Dora…" Thaddeus' voice was a strangled whisper, "Dora…" He stroked her face, and her lashes fluttered. "Sis?"

Her eyes popped open, confusion shrouding her green, making them look dark, then she cried out, " _Non_! Not them, not them. _Non_!"

Simone rushed to her other side, "Hush, _bébé,_ hush." She stroked her hair, "It be fine."

Eudora's head thrashed back and forth, " _Non!_ I see Lafe and..." a pitiable sound wheezed from her, "and... Taddy. They must be dead; why else could I see 'em?"

"Sis, _non..._ " Thaddeus cradled her face in his hands, kissing her cheeks. "We are here. I am here, oh, Sis…" His words became garbled by his tears.

She smiled, "Taddy… _m'_ twin." Her hand rose, slowly, to his neck, and she wrapped her hand about the back of it. "You are real."

He nodded, gathering her into his arms. But, when he did, a heart-rending screech peeled from her. Horrified, he recoiled, slamming up against Lafayette.

Holding him tight with one arm, Lafayette reached out, caressing Eudora's cheek, "Oh, _bébé fille."_

Her shining eyes shifted from Thaddeus to Lafayette, and she latched hold of his hand, pulling it to her lips and kissing his palm. " _Au revoir_ , Lafe."

 _"Non,_ _bébé."_ His tears dripped to the rock floor, "Do not speak so."

Her eyes slid closed, she breathed slow, then with visible effort, she opened them, "You know he gets 'em self into difficulties. You take care of 'em, Lafe."

"I will. I will _._ "

"You _promesse_ _moi_. You swear to _moi_."

"I swear I will, I swear."

Kissing his palm again, she released him, her eyes drifting back to her twin. Letting go of Thaddeus, Lafayette bent low, kissing her brow, tasting salt. " _Je_ _t'aime,_ Eudora, 'till we meet again, _m' Chérie._ " Feeling his throat might collapse from the tight constriction building there, he scooted away, leaving the twins alone.

"Taddy?"

Through sniffling sobs, Thaddeus said, "I am here, Sis."

"I am so cold. . . hold _moi_."

Stretching himself out on the stone floor, Thaddeus tenderly wrapped himself about her, and when she turned her head, they were nose-to-nose. She caressed his face, "Do not weep so."

"Cannot help it."

She smiled at him, and there was such love in it that he gasped, "Eudora Lorraine, do not leave _moi_ all alone."

"Shhh, hush now."

He nodded, trying to inhale his tears, but he could feel the warm, wetness of her blood soaking into his clothes, 'it should be _moi,_ not her.'

"I do not hurt no more, Taddy."

He nodded. " _Qu'elle_ am I to do without you?"

"You will live a fine life."

He shook his head.

"You will cause I want you to."

He coughed, choking on his tears, and Simone moved in close, stroking his back.

"Listen to _moi, m'_ twin; you live a _bonne_ life for both of us."

He nodded.

"Thaddeus Robert, I will be waitin' for you, but I do not want to be seein' you anytime soon."

" _Je_ _t'aime._ "

" _Je_ _t'aime_." A shudder ran through her. "You be _bonne_ , brave, and careful. Make sure you… live…." She swallowed hard, "…and laugh . . .. do it for _moi_."

"I will try."

Her voice tightened, "Try hard!"

He grinned a bit, swallowing more of his tears.

"Now, hush." She stroked his cheek. "With you here, I am not scared anymore. So, you do not be either."

Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered, "I do not want to be alone."

"You are not. You got Lafe, and he needs you."

"But I need you."

A painful, constricted sound came from her, causing her to convulse, and her breathing grew heavier. "We will be together again, _m'_ twin. I go to meet _Mère_."

" _Non_."

She inhaled hard, her eyes opening wider, then with an exhale of air that engulfed his face, she left him.

" _Non_! Dora, _non_!" he howled, desperately pulling her to him.

Inhaling deeply, Lafayette threw his head back. Above, the sky was dark blue with streaks of turquoise. He closed his eyes to it, inhaling deeper... each breath feeding his rage.

" _Mon bébés_ ," Simone said, bending to kiss each of them, " _Mon doux_ _bébés,_ Ava Marie, _s’il vous plaît_ watch over 'em."

Moving in, Lafayette wrapped his arms about them, their suffocating, gasping sounds of grief filling the small room. Above, he could hear the crackling, popping fire continuing to destroy all he knew, and deep within him, his rage spread, darkening his heart.

When with a lurch, Thaddeus reared up, clawing free, he leapt to his feet. For a long breath, he stared dazedly at the well-stocked cellar shelves, the jars sparkling like deep, hued gems in the light of the single lantern. His eyes returned to Eudora, and with a howl, he careened against Lafayette and knocking his shins on the stairs as he fought his way up them.

For the first time, Lafayette truly looked at Simone, and he thought, 'Someone beat her. . . broke her arm.' His face contorted, 'I should have been here to protect her; all of 'em.' His fingers brushed her shoulder, "Mams?"

Unhurriedly, her golden eyes rose to his face. " _Qu'elle_ are you _deux_ doing here, _Chéri_?"

"We returned home," was all he could think to say.

"Oh, _Chéri._ " She released a long wavering sigh, "I was so thankful you were both safe at _L'Eau Sucrée_."

Edging forward, Lafayette tenderly took her in his arms. "We are here now." She settled into his chest, and he closed his eyes tight. Beyond the cellar, he could hear the harrowing sound of Thaddeus' grief, ripping deeper ragged gashes in his soul. At length, Thaddeus' screaming turned to curses, and exhaling, Lafayette unfolded his legs and slowly stood.

Reaching out, Simone gripped his hand; her eyes, which he had only known to be filled with strength and love, were pools of sorrow. " _Mon_ Taddy, be hurtin' worse than an injured animal. You be wary of him, _Fils_."

He nodded; his throat too tight to even consider pushing words from it and climbed the stairs. Outside, the moist air felt cool on his face, and off near the outdoor kitchen, he could hear Thaddeus cursing everything from God, to Jayhawkers, to himself.

Turning that way, Lafayette listened, deciding the manner in which Thaddeus was condemning himself was dangerously disturbing. As he stood there, the heavens opened, pelting him with marble size hail that stung and bruised his bare skin.

To protect the others, he shut the cellar door, even as the fire hissed angrily against the rain choking out its life. The hail became a frigid rain, and he turned his face up, letting its coldness wash over him. Standing there, he thought, 'I do not hear Taddy.'

Gathering his loose hair back, not knowing when it had come free, he pulled a leather tie from his vest pocket, retied it, and strode off in the murky grayness to find his brother.

A flash of lightning revealed Thaddeus to be in the center of the outdoor kitchen, his head hanging low as he leaned on a table, his shoulders heaving in time with his panting breaths. Around him, tables were flipped, benches broken, pots scattered, and drawing closer, Lafayette forced the muscles of his throat to loosen enough to call, "Taddy."

His brother pivoted on his heels, the barrel of his Remington gleaming in the faint light as it stretched toward Lafayette like an accusing finger.

They remained this way, staring at each other until Thaddeus closed his eyes, and as he did, he turned the nickel-plated barrel toward himself.

" _Non!"_ Lafayette bellowed, springing forward, flattening his brother to the ground even as flame bloomed from the Remington. The sound was so close, it rang in their ears, and stone shards peppered them as the lead ball embedded itself in the patio's brick floor.

"Get off _moi!"_

Ignoring him, Lafayette dropped a knee into his brother's chest, capturing his left hand.

"Let go of _moi._ I want to go with her," Thaddeus shouted, his muscles bunching as he pulled against Lafayette's grip. "We have _toujours_ been together... _toujours_!"

Leaning into him, Lafayette slammed Thaddeus' hand down and kept doing it until the revolver fell with a clatter. Snatching it up, Lafayette tucked it in his beltline, behind his back.

With a maniacal roar, Thaddeus arched, twisted, and rolled free.

Lafayette dived before he could make it to his feet, encircling Thaddeus from behind and crushing him to his chest.

Straining against his brother, Thaddeus bellowed, "Let _moi_ go! Fuckin', let _moi_ go!" Here though, he found he was no match for the iron grip Lafayette held him with, and all at once, the fight left him.

Sagging, he sobbed, "they fuckin' killed 'er, and she _jamais_ hurt anyone, _jamais._ " His sobs wracked through his body as if each one was shredding off a piece of his soul.

Holding him, Lafayette settled to the ground, crooning, "shhh, hush, Taddy, shhh." His own heart pounded against his chest like it was trying to break free, and with each thud, the curses Thaddeus had hurled out echoed through him.

As the storm howled about them, Lafayette held his brother tight, rocking him. Thunder boomed down Sienna's valley, and more hail began to fall, this time harder and more substantial. Curling himself about his brother, Lafayette shielded him, and when the storm let up, so little by little, did his grip.

Instead of pulling away, Thaddeus turned, wrapping his arms about Lafayette, leaning his head into his brother's chest. "I cannot do this. They... killed her. They took 'er from _moi._ " A shiver ran the length of his body, "I hurt so _mal._ It is like I have been torn open, and when I look down, I should see blood spillin' from _moi_ as it was from her."

Holding his brother close, Lafayette stared at the burned, broken ruins of their home beyond his brother's bowed head.

" _Sil_ _vous plaît_. . . I want to close _m’_ eyes and be with ‘er."

Shooting to his feet, dragging Thaddeus with him, Lafayette shook him roaring, " _Non_!

 _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ , _non_!" He shook him again, so hard his head bobbed back-and-forth. "You lyin' down and dyin' ain't even on the table. Hell, doin' so would be dishonorin' Dora's wishes."

Suddenly as it had left him, Thaddeus' will returned, and he jerked free of Lafayette, stumbling back a few steps.

The setting sun broke through the dispersing clouds, highlighting the brothers, and Lafayette held out his hand. "I swear by the blood we share," he said with precise firmness. "We will find 'em, and we will make 'em pay. Fact is, Taddy, we will introduce 'em to a _nouveau_ version of justice like they ain't never seen." His eyes narrowed, "And Eudora was correct; I do need you."

Thaddeus started to take a step back as Lafayette approached, but then he halted.

"Look at _moi, Frère."_

The sharp green eyes rose, but the pure hate he saw on Lafayette's face made him take one step back. It seemed like the darkness of hell had overtaken his brother, and as much as he did not recognize the look, he recognized the bitter loathing in Lafayette's voice even less.

"I do need you. Need you by _m'_ side as we make these bastards pay for takin' everything away from us. So, will you be there to take 'em down with _moi,_ Thaddeus Robert?"

Thaddeus tongue traced across his lips, and taking a breath, he nodded.

Lafayette nodded back, his face taking on a skittish look he had long ago outgrown. "Sides, you cannot leave _moi. . . all_ alone? _S'il vous plaît_ , Taddy. . ." The blackness had left his eyes, and he pleaded, "do not ever leave _moi_."

Thaddeus' nostrils flared, for at that moment, he could see Lafayette was just as young, hurt, and scared as he was. Rushing forward, he wrapped him up in his arms. "I am all right now, Lafe. I swear, I am, and I will not leave you. Not fuckin' ever! You are right; we will show 'em how to play their game and, _par Dieu_ , we will make 'em pay in blood, we fuckin' will."


	85. Chapter EIGHTY-TWO

Chapter Eighty-Two

Thaddeus knew he should be out on the drive with Lafayette, bidding farewell to neighbors who had come with condolences. However, after the burials, he found he did not have much politeness left in him. So, instead, he wandered off to the rose garden.

Lost in his thoughts, he sat on a stone bench smoking and feeling of the dainty silver heart, now hanging on his crucifix's chain. When his cigarillo burnt his fingers, he dropped it, grinding the twisted bit of paper into the earth with the heel of his boot. Standing, he blew out a hard breath, his eyes going to the dark piles of dirt marring the green grass of their family cemetery.

Rising from the same bench, Simone wrapped her one good arm about him.

He blinked, looking down, "I... Father, Gabe, and I..."

"Y'all had, at last, settled into each other," she rubbed a hand along his back, "you think back on 'em, I want you to recall these past months, gain strength from them _bonne_ times." Her eyes shifted to Lafayette, where he paced in front of the stone steps. She whispered, "Taddy, his _démon_ be on the outside. I can see it."

She felt Thaddeus stiffen, "he is still in control, Mams."

" _Non, bébé,_ " she moved closer to him.

"Lafe is strong," Thaddeus looked down on her, "he is stronger than _moi._ "

"That may be, but he is not his self!"

Thaddeus turned to look her full in the face.

A bitter, cold malevolence shone bright in his green eyes, and Simone said, "oh, _bébé,_ do not allow the hate I be seein' in you to become the master."

Wrapping her in his arms, Thaddeus did not try to refute her words, only held her close.

"Mams, it is time."

Unaware Lafayette had walked up, Simone jumped, drawing in a sharp breath.

A corner of Lafayette's mouth quired, " _mon excuses._ "

Staring into his face, Simone frowned at the blackness she saw and, with a whispered sigh, allowed him to escort her to the buggy, where Marie already sat, huddled in on herself.

After lifting Simone into the open-top buggy, Lafayette walked to the driver, " _Monsieur_ Ericksen, once more, Taddy and I are deeply grateful for your assistance."

"Jackson offered our place; besides, the good book says to love thy neighbor," Mr. Ericksen replied, but there was no feeling of brotherly love to his tone.

Lafayette's eyes narrowed and turning his face from the man; he said, "still, _merci beaucoup._ " Walking back down the side of the buggy, he paused by Simone, saying in a firm, calm voice, "Tonight, I wish to be made aware of all that occurred here." Hearing Ericksen speaking to his team, Lafayette stepped back as the wheels began to turn.

Remaining where he was, Lafayette bowed his head, listening to the carriage wheels traveling down the chat drive and sensing more than hearing his brother's approach; he lifted his eyes to find Thaddeus at his side. Laying a hand on his shoulder, he squeezed it passing him a wane smile, and together, they went to join their pals waiting under the drive's center cottonwood.

As they drew near, Lafayette studied the tree's brilliant green, spade-shaped leaves falling with soft tapping sounds to the ground, and he thought, 'must be from the heat the fire.' His gaze shifted to their home, then on to the charred stone box that had been the lower half of the barn, 'just ain't right, decades of labor, memories. . . love obliterated in hours.' With a shake of his head, he snorted loudly, for it came to him that he could feel himself becoming hard and cold as a smooth, black, river stone.

Bumping against him, Thaddeus asked, " _qu'elle_ you thinkin'?"

Lafayette gazed into his brother's puffy, red face and then beyond his shoulder to their friends. Throwing his shoulders back, Lafayette said in a firm, clear voice, "that there is to be a retribution."

Clyde Massey briskly answered, "Damn well, should be."

Each word said with a precise edge of rage, Lafayette asked, "when Taddy and I are ready, any of you willin' to ride with us?"

The first to step forward was Gabrielle Crowe's adopted brother, Brody Johnson; his mirror-like gray eyes scanned to where Gabriel lay within Sienna's soil. "Gonna miss 'em something terrible." Sniffing sharp, Brody's eyes came to Lafayette, and he extended his hand. "At y'all's sides is the onliest place I would be."

Grabbing it firmly, Lafayette thought, 'the experience he garnered at Gabe's side will make 'em useful. However, I do hope it does not become necessary from _moi_ to teach 'em, Taddy and I will not tolerate his badgerin' us 'bout as he and Gabe were want to do.'

Reading Lafayette's withdrawn attitude, Brody gripped his hand tighter. "As the head of ya household, Lafe, I appreciate a heavy load has been thrust on you." Placing his other hand atop Lafayette's, he leaned in closer, "believe this; I will back any damn move ya make. I know Gabe, and I rode the pair of ya…" his eyes flicked to Thaddeus and back, "rode the pair of ya over the years, but them days are done. As I said, Gabe…" Licking his lips, he swallowed hard, "was my brother, through and through, and if'n, ya will let me, I will be the same for y'all."

Lafayette's head tilted to the side in consideration before he nodded, finally saying, " _Merci,_ we shall be proud to have you ridin' with us."

Releasing his hand, Brody's eyes once more flicked to Thaddeus, "once more ya and back to Lafayette, "you have my sympathies."

A corner of Lafayette's mouth turned up, "goin' be requirin' more than your sympathies, if'n you ride with us." His black eyes slid meaningfully to the pair of Colts Brody wore.

A toothy, growling grin broke across Brody's face, "and ya will damn-well get it." 

" _Bonne_ to know."

Mounting his long-legged bay gelding, Brody touched his hat, "I will gather others, ya send word, we will be there." Then with a parting nod, he turned the gelding, trotting down the drive.

Clyde Massey watched him go before stepping up with his cousin, JT, right behind him, as was always the case. "Anything y'all do, me and JT want to be with y'all." Clyde wrapped his long arms about the pair of them before either Crowe could react, pulling them close. "Lafe, Tad, our family truly sends its deepest, deepest sympathies. We are gonna miss 'em all, markedly Dora. She was...well…" Clyde released them to look Thaddeus in the eyes, "I always saw 'er as happiness. Adored chattin' with 'er, she made me feel this world was good, and a person was meant to be cheerful in it."

Stepping out from behind Clyde, JT threw a quick peek at Lafayette, stepping closer to Thaddeus with tears running fast from his droopy, brown eyes.

Empathizing with his grief, Thaddeus grabbed him in a hug, "how you doin'?"

"Purty terrible," JT mumbled into Thaddeus' shoulder.

Patting him solidly on the back, Thaddeus released him, saying, "I know you and Dora were great pals. She _toujours_ got so excited when she talked of you." Dragging his teeth through his lower lip, Thaddeus garbled out, "she sure enjoyed your visits."

"She were the only one I never minded callin' me Jonathon Thomas and..." JT sniffed hard, "...she did it all the time."

Thaddeus half-smiled, remembering how often she called him 'Thaddeus Robert' and how it sounded as natural as bullfrogs around a swimming hole coming from her.

Taking off his worn hat, JT gripped it tight in his hands, "Taddy, um, Tad, it might 'en be wrong to say."

Thaddeus' eyes sharpened.

"I want you to know. . ." JT shook his head, looking to the ground. "I was bidin' my time for you to come on back from your river voyage. I just 'bout spoke with your Pa, without you here and all." He looked up into Thaddeus' eyes. "But it did not feel right, so I thought I would wait for your return to ask if 'n y'all would allow me to court' Dora."

Thaddeus' brows puckered, and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"I understood she was different. . ." JT half shrugged, "kind of like me…but, Tad, I loved 'er. It hurts to breathe knowin' she ain't here no more, I absolutely loved 'er."

Wrapping JT in his arms, Thaddeus swallowed at the fresh batch of tears he felt rising up. "Not sure _qu'elle_ I would of said. _Jamais_ thought to ask 'er how she felt 'bout you, just knew she enjoyed havin' you around."

Sucking in a hard-quavering breath, JT pulled away. Glancing fast to Lafayette, he limped off on his twisted knee, to where he and Clyde's horses stood with their hunting dogs. Kneeling, by his dogs To and Fro, he scratched their ears then fell to loving up Patches, who was tied to the hitching post, looking as dismal as JT.

Red in the face, Clyde ran a hand through his stringy, shoulder-length hair, "I told 'em not to speak of his plans. But y'all know, JT rarely allows for good sense."

Thaddeus passed Clyde a lopsided grin, "It is all right. _Feu de l'enfer_ , it is _bonne_ knowin' someone else _amoured_ 'er, and again, appreciate y'all takin' Patches to your place, seems he and JT gets along just fine."

Clyde looked to his cousin, sitting splayed legged on the ground with the dogs, "Times are; I think he understands animals better than people." Tugging his hat down, he nodded to the brothers, "y'all send word when the time comes. We will be there for anything which brings..." Clyde's eyes drifted to Sienna's great house, "well, as you said, a retribution."

Through all the talk, Jackson leaned against the cottonwood, twirling a singed leaf. Now, with it just being the three of them, he let go a deep, gut-wrenching breath. "What has occurred here plain sickens me." When he raised his face, light glinted across his wet cheeks and bear. "There are no words for any of it. Just know I am with you."

Stepping forward, Lafayette clasped hold of Jackson's hands, so they no longer fidgeted. "I ain't goin' to tell you, _merci_. I have hit a point I cannot stand the feel of the word in _m'_ mouth." Giving him a weak smile, Lafayette stepped back. "Hey, Jackson, could you possibly leave Taddy and _moi,_ here, alone, for a bit? We will be on over to your place soon enough."

Swinging into his saddle, Jackson tried to smile and only nodded instead. "Take all the time y'all need." He reined Nero about to take the path which cut between the slave cottages, so he could cross the east field for home as he had done all his life. His blue eyes locked on the blackened ruins that held so many memories for him, and wheeling about, he instead galloped down the long, curving drive to the road.

Bowing his head, Lafayette rubbed at his temples, " _M_ _erci_ seems to be the only damned word I have been sayin' today, and truth is Taddy, I ain't feelin' particularly fuckin' thankful nor merciful."

"I agree," Thaddeus answered. "At least, the others were with _Grand-mere_."

Lafayette nodded, "and I must write to 'em." Blowing out a breath, he headed for the house. As a matter of course, Thaddeus trailed after him.

Stained glass shards crunched beneath their boots as they climbed the front steps before where the massive front door had been was a jumbled pile of bricks that came up to Lafayette's chest. Walking along the porch, he peered through a gaping hole into the front parlor; inside, the fire's warmth was still dispersing like the residue heat about an old campfire; after a moment, he gingerly stepped through.

Thaddeus did the same, thinking, " _qu'elle_ is he doing?" Tilting his head back, he squinted through the missing sections of the roof that allowed him an unnatural view of the sky.

Moving through the parlor, Lafayette paused as before him on the floor lay the curve of a face, full lips, and a delicately arched eye. He squatted, touching what remained of the painting their Mother, Gena Lorraine, he thought, 'seeing so little of it... I can _vraiment_ see a bit of her in each of 'n us.' Standing, he worked his way through the devastation toward their father's study.

Here the walls of books had been perfect tender, no ceiling remained, and the floor was blanketed with wreckage from Gabriel and Father's rooms. Pointing to a pair of beams jutting toward the stone fireplace, Lafayette's voice sounded thick as he said, "Figure the desk is below that pile."

"Most likely," Thaddeus answered, eyeing the blackened beams. "but _qu'elle_ does it fuckin' matter?"

"Take it; he had not got around to tellin' you," Lafayette answered, tossing aside the frame of a chair he believed had been in Father's bedroom. "There is a safe under the desk."

" _Qu'elle_?"

"There is a floor safe under the desk."

"I heard you say that, but why did he not tell _moi_?"

"Do not feel too _mal_ , he _jamais_ told _moi_ either." Lafayette grinned, "I found it and eventually opened it."

"How?"

"Listenin' to the tumblers when I turned it, took _moi_ more than a year to open it."

"Why did you _jamais_ tell _moi_?"

Lafayette shrugged, with a wry smile, "we all have our secrets."

"You can open safes, well damnation, that is _une_ fuckin' amazin' secret."

"I would not say safes," Lafayette answered. "I can open this _une_."

Flinging bedroom floorboards across the room, Thaddeus asked, "why did you do it?"

Picking up a section of Gabriel's dresser, Lafayette answered, "boredom," as he tossed the piece aside, "challenge, not sure which, just did it." He motioned to a thick, square-cut beam, and Thaddeus grabbed the other end.

"How in the hell did you figure out _qu'elle_ to do?"

"It was a puzzle, and I used logic."

"You amaze _moi_."

"Not tryin' to, grab that," Lafayette laid hands on the second beam, grunting at its weight. Although, once they moved it and several more floorboards, they uncovered the remains of Antonio's cherry wood desk.

"And Father, _jamais_ told you 'bout the safe?"

" _Non_ , but Gabe did," Lafayette replied, walking to the opposite end of the desk. "Father had trusted 'em with the combination as he was first born and all. Then Gabe deemed, a few more of us should be in the know, so he informed Katharine and _mon_ self." He grinned bitterly at Thaddeus, "'Course, I had already seen inside it by then."

"Still cannot believe you _jamais_ told _moi_?"

"We all just agreed not to tell you and Jo. Perhaps, we were makin' certain neither of you would run off with a travelin' circus or such foolishness."

"Hilarious."

" _Feu de l'enfer_ , ain't like y'all ain't damn impulsive," Lafayette answered, and laying hands on the desk, the pair of them flipped it over. Beneath it was a half-burned red and blue, woven tapestry rug, and kicking it back, Lafayette looked straight at Thaddeus. "Behold." Before them was a black safe, with scrolled gold design along its corners, embedded into a large slab of granite. "Humph?" Lafayette grunted, looking over to Thaddeus, "did not know it was sunk in bedrock. Wonder if'n that is why Father chose this exact spot for the house?"

"We will _jamais_ know." Thaddeus replied, shaking his head, "only ones I ever saw were in banks." A smile caressed his mouth, and then almost as if he realized he was smiling, it fell from his face as fast as a sheet of ice from a barn roof.

"Go fetch a saddlebag or something I can load."

Thaddeus left with a nod, and by the time he returned, Lafayette had several neat piles of currency stacked outside the safe.

"Hmm, appears we are homeless, but not destitute," Thaddeus mumbled, shoving the money in his saddlebag, but when Lafayette passed him tied bundles of papers, his brows bunched tight.

Recognizing the look, Lafayette answered, "Deeds of ownership for Sienna, the _chevals_ , as well as stocks and various legal issues."

"Oh." Thaddeus frowned, " _Qu'elle_ are we to do with 'em?"

"I will send 'em to _L'Eau Sucree;_ they can be put in its safe." Lafayette glanced to his brother, "it is in the parlor behind _Gran Pere's_ image. Remind _moi_ later to write down this and that _unes_ combinations for you." Dropping the lid closed, Lafayette spun the dial. "There is still a _bonne_ deal of currency and some jewelry in this _une_."

Tossing rumble from various parts of the room, they recovered the desk and safe. Standing with his hands on his hips, Lafayette surveyed their work. Slowly he turned in a circle taking in the destruction surrounding them, and a tear traced along his tight cheekbone, leaving a trail on his sooty face; not bothering to wipe it away, he said, "Let us get over to the Ericksen's. They are most likely holdin' _dîner_ for us."


	86. Chapter EIGHTY-THREE

Chapter Eighty-Three

In the farthest corner of the Ericksen's cultivated garden, Simone sat alone watching purple Coneflowers dance in the evening breeze on their wiry stems. Already having wept, until her tears would come no more, she was now deliberating how much she wished to tell her boys. When quite suddenly a cluster of whirling, diving monarch butterflies exploded from the flowers and behind her, she heard the soft steps of someone coming into the garden.

The broken arm Jackson had set ached terribly where it hung against her in a sling. Caressing it, she thought, ' _qu'elle_ am I to say, I know they mean kindness, but I wish to be left alone.' Taking a strengthening breath, she turned, surprised to see not a member of the Ericksen household but her boys. Their heads held high, backs straight, and her heart swelled to hold them close to her as she had done when they truly were boys. As they drew close, her heart compressed with pain, for their eyes were flat like those of the dead. Her hand flew to her mouth, to restrain any sound that might escape, praying, ' _mon beau garcons, s'il vous plaît,_ let this not kill your laughing souls.'

At a rock half wall that divided floral beds, Thaddeus took a seat, motioning her to join him, even as Lafayette dropped to the grass, placing his back to the wall.

Simone sat, easing between them, a shiver running through her, and Thaddeus drew her to him.

Leaning into his broad chest, she focused on the steady thrum of his heart, and beneath the foul odor of smoke, she found his familiar scent. When Lafayette turned, laying an arm on the wall, she knew he wished her to speak, and despite wanting to stay as she was, Simone straightened.

Reaching out, she stroked a strand of Lafayette's long hair from his face, further disliking what she read in his eyes and knowing what she was about to say would make it worse.

Taking her hand, he held it.

Her eyes strayed back to the purple Coneflowers. "Marie and I were in the kitchen fixin' _déjeuner_ , Marie, and we heard _chevals_ on the drive. Too many to be any neighbor visitin'. Y'all know how Marie can spook like a barn cat and them _chevals_ chargin' up the drive did it to her. She went and dropped a whole stack of plates. Oh, but the mess they made," her voice quivered, "shattering just all over."

Lafayette stroked his thumb across the back of her hand.

"I did not scold, not at all, cause I was spooked _mon_ self. Do not know why 'cept the air had that feelin' it has when you know something wrong be 'bout to happen. That be when I recalled Dora was gatherin' the clean sheets in from the line."

At her name, Thaddeus made a gulping sound.

"I ran right out to fetch 'er. Only all I found was a partially clipped sheet dragging on the ground. _M_ _on_ heart jumped up in _m'_ throat, and I set to searchin' for 'er. Found 'er out front, peekin' through the honeysuckle at some _étrange_ men on the drive."

Simone caught a movement from the corner of her eye, and glancing down, saw Lafayette's brows were drawn together tighter than she thought possible. Pulling her hand from his, she stroked his cheek, except he withdrew, gruffly saying, "go on."

"Well, there be a whole herd of men on the drive and Mister, he be on the front steps speakin' with a lil' puffed up man who had him a _mademoiselle's_ big, blue, bonnet feather in his hat."

At the man's description, Thaddeus jerked like he had been stabbed, and Lafayette's eyes slid coldly over his brother, reading guilt in his face.

At the iciness passing between the brother's Simone pulled into herself, cradling her broken arm. "Standing right by that lil' man was that lowdown, O'Rourke. I recognized 'em right off as he has sniffed about Sienna, ever since you would not allow 'em to have Josie."

Lafayette closed his eyes, his head dropping, the same guilt he had seen in Thaddeus' eyes ripping through him.

Moving to stand, Simone said, "I do not want to tell this."

Without looking up, Lafayette his forearm across her legs, "but, Mams, you must."

Her golden eyes once more drifted to butterflies landing and flitting from flower to flower, their delicate weight making the bulbous purple cones bend and dip.

Turning his face up to her, Lafayette pleaded, “ _s'il vous plaît_ , Mams, _s'il vous plaît.”_

A single wracking sob tore from Simone, and tears slipped from her eyes. "I spied Web and Gabe coming up from the barn." She slowly shook her head, "pair of 'em looked so big and strong in that peculiar, greenish storm light." Taking a breath, she looked down into Lafayette's black eyes. "You ever notice how sharp things are under that odd light?"

He nodded, swallowing tight, so his Adam's apple bobbed.

" _Toujours_ liked that light since I was a _fille,_ thought of it as being magical." Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, Simone inhaled deep, turning her eyes again to the butterflies and buzzing bees, softly saying, "anyways, I do not likes it no mores."

Minutes passed, slowly and Thaddeus widened his eyes pointedly at his brother.

Lafayette pulled his arm from Simone's legs, gently nudging her, "Mams?"

Without looking at him, she snapped, "Stop!"

More time passed, shadows slipped into the garden, and suddenly with a shake of her head, Simone was on her feet. "I have decided I do not wish to tell it."

The brothers, too, were on their feet with Thaddeus blocking her escape, yelping, "Mams, you have to."

Her eyes sparked hot, "I do not _have_ to do anything."

He held firm, but she could see doing so pained him.

"It will tear y'all apart."

Hard as a blade's edge, Lafayette replied, "the not knowin' will do even worse."

She whipped about to scold him. However, his grief contorted expression set her back, and with an almost moaning rush of air, she sat down.

" _Une_ of them men shot Gabe."

The brothers sank back to the grass, so each of them was at her feet, leaning into the wall.

"They just turned and shot 'em. I was lookin' right at _m'_ Gabe when that lead ball hit 'em in the leg. Saw the pain leap into his face as he staggered, fallin' to a knee. It took all I had to keep Dora from runnin' to 'em. Kept tellin 'er, she could not go out there. By then, all those men were shootin', and it was so loud. . ." Simone took a deep shuddering breath, dashing tears that had gathered beneath her chin away. "it was so loud, and Dora, she be arguin' with _moi_ like she _jamais_ done afore. I had to drag 'er after _moi_ and her screechin' like some low trash child. . ." Simone's eyes went to Thaddeus, "usin' every filthy word she ever learned from you."

Unable to hold Simone's hot gaze, Thaddeus looked away.

"When we got to the back door, Marie was clingin' to the step railin' like she be wantin' to run but not knowin' where to go. I told her, 'take Dora, and hide yourselves upstairs.'" A wracking sob rippled from Simone. "Such a fool, I should have told 'em run here. Why, oh, why did I send 'em inside?"

"It is all right, Mams," Thaddeus said, sliding up beside her and putting his arm about her. "It is _qu'elle_ I would have done."

Rolling the muscles of his jaw, Lafayette scanned his eyes from them, thinking, 'Not I. Sienna was under attack, I would have sent 'em away. It was damn foolish to send 'em inside.' Bowing his head, he tried to turn his thoughts, not liking where they were headed.

Pulling a kerchief from inside her sling, Simone wiped at her nose, "I snuck through the dining _chambre,_ duckin' over into the front parlor, and with the front door hangin' open, I could hear it all." She dabbed at her nose again, "it were a devil's nest out there with revolvers going off and cursin', and orders being bellowed that no one was mindin'. I saw some of those men layin' dead in the drive. I knew _m'_ Web and Gabe had made 'em this way, and I was glad they had." She smiled timidly over at Thaddeus. "And I do not feel ashamed for thinkin' that way, either."

He nodded, squeezing her, "I would not either."

She sighed long and low. "Anyways, 'bout then I recalled _m'_ Gabe was hurt, and I needed to get to 'em. A fire flamed up in _moi,_ I got as mad as a cornered possum and coming out the front door, I snagged up the broom that sat there near the porch swing and runnin' down the front steps I lit into them men who was beatin' on Mister." She touched of her harm, "awfully foolish of _moi._ But I was mad clear through."

Thaddeus squeezed her, and she nodded.

" _Une_ of 'em blue-coated soldiers called _moi_ an empty-headed darkey, and wrenched the broom from me," Simone touched of her face, "and punched _moi_ here. When I fell back, it was then I saw the barn was just a-blazin'. While I was starin' at the barn, wonderin' where Peter might be, that man latched hold of _moi,_ flingin' _moi_ down the steps." She again touched of her sling. "I felt it snap. It was like an explosion and laying there on the drive; I could see Web and Gabe."

She took two sharp breaths, her face graying.

Reaching inside his vest, Lafayette removed a flask, and spinning off the top, he handed it to Simone.

She studied the gold _fleur-de-lis_ inlaid into the silver flask before taking a drink. When she did finally drink, she released a choked cough. Still holding the flask, Simone pressed the back of her hand to her eyes. " _Mon beau_ Webster, he was reachin' for _moi,_ and I ran to 'em. Oh, but there was so much blood. . . so much." Pulling her hand down, she took another sip. "When _m'_ Web tried to speak to _moi,_ blood bubbled from his mouth. _Mon_ Webster, he were the sweetest child, a heart so big. . ." A choking sob ripped from her, "how can a heart like that be taken from this world? When I leaned in to kiss 'em, he smiled at _moi,_ and I watched the light fade right out of _m' bébé's_ eyes. _Mon chéri_ _fils_ shot down like an unwanted dog."

A shuddering sob spilled from Thaddeus, and when he leaned his head into Simone, she wove her fingers into his hair.

"Then Gabe, he called for _moi,_ and even as I moved to 'em, I was thankin' all the Saints y'all were far away." Releasing Thaddeus, she touched the side of Lafayette's neck. "Gabe had 'em a chunk of his flesh missin' right about here. His hand was pressed over it, but there was blood gushin' tween his fingers. I ripped cloth from _m'_ petticoat and put it beneath his hand, telling 'em to keep it tight while I looked 'em over." She nodded with a bitter smile. "Except for that first _une_ in his leg, and this, there were _non_ others. I set to prayin'; cause _m'_ Gabriel's always been strong as Sampson."

Simone took another sip, her words becoming a bit thicker. "when I cupped his cheek, looking 'em in the eyes, let _moi_ tell you both, Gabriel Matthew was not scared. He was angry, hot angry like a boar that has been riled up."

Understanding the depths of Gabriel's anger, Lafayette sniffed hard, coughed, and spat out into the garden.

"I was figurin' _qu'elle_ I needed to do, to get _m' Gabe,_ out of there. When. . ." she released a long shuddering breath. "the most horrible sound came to me, I turned to see it were them Yankees stringin' Mister up. It was just awful..." She put her hand to her lips, shaking her head. "They was raisin' and lowerin' 'em like some _Mardi_ _Gras_ decoration, and Mister gaggin' while a clawin' at the rope, and them beasts a laughin'. _Mon_ Gabe was havin' none of that. He rolled up, snaggin' Web's revolver, and he dropped the _une_ of 'em with his first shot." Simone's teeth raked across her lip, "the others, they all turned firin', and I do nots know how I was not hit. But _m'_ poor, Gabe, he bucked up off the ground, so much lead hit 'em. He was screamin', and I was screamin', and he was still firin' that pistol even though it was clickin' empty."

Simone shook her head, falling silent, and Lafayette nudged the flask. Shaking her head, she passed it back to him.

"About then, I believed it could not get any worse," she shook her head, "how wrong I was. 'Cause when they all ceased firin', and the smoke shifted, that is when I saw Dora. That _fille_ walked right down those steps, sayin' clear as a robin's song, 'You let _mon famille_ be.' Those men spun, staring slack-jawed at her." Simone touched Thaddeus' arm, "if'n our _fille_ did not look fierce. It was the same look I have seen on you. A cool, determined fury, and them men, they saw it, too."

Thaddeus inhaled, a shiver running through him.

"Gabriel, _m' garçon,_ passed while I watch Dora shakin' her head at all of 'em, stern as a Lutheran minister, sayin', 'y'all climb on your _chevals_ and leave, y'all ain't wanted here.' Something in her ordering 'em about broke the spell, and they all set to laughin', some of 'em sayin' 'she would be a fine, pretty lil' piece to try out.' That was when I shouted for her to _run,_ and she did, with _duex_ of 'em on her heels.

I ran after 'er, passin' under Mister, where he dangled from the veranda railin'. He was as far beyond _m'_ help as _m'_ chéri _fils_ , and, not havin' seen Peter, I just knew," Simone drug in a long breath, "knew there were not anyone left to protect us _filles._ " 

Silence slipped up around the three of them.

Tightly, Thaddeus asked, " _qu'elle_ happened next?"

"There were men inside tearin' through drawers and cupboards, and upstairs, I could hear blood-curdling screams. But before I made it to the staircase, this black-bearded man grabbed _m'_ broken arm. Ah, but it hurt. I fell to the floor, and he jerked _moi_ up demandin' to know where the currency were, and I pointed 'em to the desk in the study, hopin' he would let _moi_ go. But he drugs me in there, wanted _moi_ to show' em, and all the while, I could hear the _filles_ a-wailin.' So, I told 'em it were in the bottom desk drawer and when he bent to retrieve it; I laid 'em out with that ashtray made of _cheval_ shoes, Mister _toujours_ kept on his desk, and I hope I done killed 'em," she said, the color rising in her face.

The brothers exchanged a knowing look, for they had not come across a corpse in the rubble about the desk.

"Then I ran up the backstairs and found old George shot through the head right there by the door to Katherine's _chambre_." Simone sniffed, shaking her head, "that old man were too feeble to hurt a chicken, and they killed 'em. I ran on, and it were near y'alls rooms, I came upon a pack of them beasts violatin' Marie."

She felt the brothers tense, the air growing chill about them, and she thought, 'they wanted to hear it, and so they shall.'

" _Duex_ of 'em were holdin' Marie down, while another was a takin' his turn. Then I saw Dora..."

The brothers twitched as their muscles ratcheted tighter.

Feeling pity, she touched each of them, "they did not have 'er. She was exitin' your _chambre_ , Taddy, with a revolver in her hand." A flat, cold smile traced across Simone's face, "and that _fille_ were not scared. She was angry, the way Gabe had been, and she walked right up to that man ruttin' into Marie and shot 'em in the head. Them other _duex_ leapt clear like boilin' water had been thrown on 'em. _Une_ of 'em pulled his revolver, and Eudora Lorraine, she shot 'em straight in the face, saying 'I told y'all it was fuckin' time for you to leave.' That third man, he was havin' no more of here and pulling his revolver, he fired and then there was blood spreading across 'er dress front. She looked down at it, frowned, raised your revolver, Taddy, and shot that man right back. While he was floundering 'bout on the floor, she strode over and kicked 'em, sending 'em rollin' down the stairs like the piece of trash he was. Then she sat down on the top step and started cryin'."

Closing her eyes, Simone took a long, deep breath and sat still for a moment listening to the hushed sounds of her boys weeping. 

"About then, I realized the house was filling with smoke and knew they was torchin' it, same as they had done the barn. I ordered the _filles_ to their feet, bullied 'em like field hands, and snuck us all down to the cellar. I was tryin' to comfort Dora; I knew she was dyin' and dyin' painfully, and naught that I could do. I was holdin' her, listenin' to Marie's tortured sobs, and thinkin' _Dieu_ when you take _m' bébé fille,_ you go on take _moi,_ too." Reaching out, she gripped tight of Lafayette's shoulder, "then I heard you." She nodded, "and that be all of it, and now that I done told y'all, I do not ever want to tell it again."

A whispering silence shrouded them until Thaddeus gagged on the sobs he had been trying to keep hold of, and Simone pulled him to her, "shhh, _m' fils,_ shhh."

At length, Lafayette rubbed his hands up his face, and standing, said, "I shall send you and Marie to Katharine, or anywhere else you wish. I only want you far away from this hell."

The golden light of gloaming was highlighting his face, and despite the hardness that had settled into Lafayette's features, Simone thought, 'how _beau_ _m' fils_ be.' She began to ask, 'will you be joinin' us?' and burrowed her face into Thaddeus' thick, black hair instead because she already knew his answer, both of their answers. Closing her eyes tight, she ' _Dieu,_ _s'il vous plaît,_ find forgiveness for what they are fixin' to do.'


	87. Chapter Eighty-Four

Chapter  Eighty-Four

"Mr. Ericksen, I cannot  express  _ m _ _ ' _ __ appreciation  for your hospitality , " Lafayette said, shaking the older man's hand , h is eyes scann ing to the buggy where Marie and Simone sat.

"Proud to be able to assist;  escorting  your womenfolk to St. Joe is an easy task."

Lafayette nodded.

Mr. Ericksen  glanced to t he buggy , a slight frown  dimpling  his florid face. He had never owned slaves and  could not help wondering  if being sent South was what these  nigresses wished or if it was a matter of transferring property to another place. "Uh hem, Lafayette, if the ladies wish, they are welcome to stay on here with us."

Lafayette's eyes scrolled back to Mr. Ericksen , staring at the man ; he thought,  'Jackson more resembles his Mother.'

The re was a sheer coldness  to Lafayette's black eyes  that  made a trickle of sweat slide down Mr. Ericksen’s back .  " Now,  I was not suggesting anything beyond ; we would be pleased to have them as guests."

"They are goin ' South , Mr. Ericksen, of their own choice." Lafayette  gestured to t he buggy .  " If ' n you ain ' t wishing to take  _ m _ _ ' _ __ word, a sk 'em. I will even step away if ' n you wish. "

"Th ere is no need for that,  Lafayette . No need at all if ' n you say they are abiding , then that is all which needs to be said. "

Lafayette merely grunted,  not liking the veiled suggestion  of him  forcing Mams and Marie to do anything they did not wish.  Turning on his heel, he walked to the buggy, handing  a  thick letter to Marie, "Here , _ Chér _ _ i _ _ ,  _ p ut this in your bag  with the other papers. It explain s all to Katharine, freeing y'all from the necessity of havin' to do so."

Taking the letter,  Marie stow ed it in the  carpetbag  that sat between her and Simone.

Leaning in, Lafayette made to kiss Marie ' s cheek in  farewell , and she d rew  b ack with a sharp gasp, her eyes bolting wide-open.

The fear in her face froze him . H e looked down, swallowed hard, then returned his gaze to her with a soft smile.  " Marie,  _ chéri _ , I pray you are able to heal , and this life becomes easier for you."

"I pray, too, Mister Lafe." A timid, twisted smile  marred  her pretty face, " also , I pray you kill  every one of them beasts who came to Sienna.  I know the good book says that be wrong, but  I cannot help thinkin ' them being dead  _ will _ make life easier."

Lafayette nodded , extending his hand palm up .

She  stared at it, took a breath laying  her palm atop his.

Leaning close, he  earnestly  whispered,  " You keep prayin' ,  and I will  strive  to make 'em come true."  Kissing  the back of her hand,  he stepped from her.  " _ Au revoir." _

Circling the buggy , he came upon Simone holding tight of  Thaddeus ' hands , and his brother  shot him a cautionary look . So,  before  Simone  could speak, Lafayette said, "Do not be startin' in all over again , Mams, 'bout us accompanying y'all."

"I  will not be able to be livin ' with myself... if I did not try," she said,  reaching over, she gra sped Lafayette ' s left hand . " You two be all the  _ fils  _ I got left, and  you both knows how much  _ amour  _ i s in  _ m _ _ ' _ heart for you .  ' Sides, you,  rightly now, Mistress Lorraine is expectin ' you back. You  informed  _ moi  _ so yourself, Lafe."

"I  am cognizant of that.  However, circumstances have altered  _ m _ _ ' _ previous plans."

" I see that as a ll the more reason, Lafayette Henri Begnoir , for  you to be a listenin ' to  _ moi  _ and bringin ' yourselves  South."

L afayette  wearily sighed,  "Jon and Jo will be home from England soon , and the others are already there.  _ Grand-mère _ _ , _ __ and you too, Mams are just gonna  have to make do without Taddy and  _ moi _ for a time."

"We should not have to," Simone countered. "Why can y'all not come South with us?"

"You know why, Mams."

Simone 's golden eyes trailed fro m one brother to the other,  "The  _ bonne Dieu _ does not approve of vengeance, and I did not raise either  _ un  _ of you to go a seekin ' it ."

"The book says, ' A n eye for an eye ,' " Thaddeus answered.

"You are choosin ' words,  _ Garçon.  _ Jesus said , ' You shall love your neighbor as yourself. ' I raised y ' all knowin ' it be best  to turn the other cheek."

Lafayette tightly smiled, " True , you did. B ut  you , above all know,  we  _ duex  _ do not always follow the correct path.  Mams, t his war  came t o us , Taddy  nor  I invite d it.  Hellfire, w e did not  even  encourage it.  Still, i t sought us out , destroyed  _ qu _ _ ' _ _ elle  _ we  hold …. held dear . All that made us  _ bonne _ . We  _ amour _ you, Mams, however, our souls are  seeped chock-full  with hatred , and unless we release it, we will fester until we ain ' t fit to be near decent folk.  Now, y ou go on South 'cause we ain't leaving Missouri..." He looked to Thaddeus. "...'til we are  _ bonne _ and ready." He tried  giving her a reassuring  dimpled  s mile but  found there were  none  left in him.  "Be  wary. K eep your  _ liberté _ papers  near and send a telegram to Harrisonville when you arrive."  Pulling his hand free, he  kissed her weathered cheek .  " This war came  lookin ' for us , and we ain ' t  ' bout to leave it wantin ' . " Looking to  Mr. Eriksen's hired man,  he called,  " Eli, g et 'em out of here,  _ s'il vous plaît _ ."

As the buggy faded from view, Jackson came to stand by the Crowe brothers, "What shall happen now?

"Taddy and I are goin ' to track each of those  _ bâtards _ down , plan on  show 'em the same kindness they have shown us before they can spread their generosity  ' bout to other families ."

Jackson glanced  at Thaddeus; whose grin gave him a chill.  " Lafe, I have an idea of what you are plannin ' . You  honestly believe it is the right thing to do? "

" Violence a in ' t right ; I know  that Jackson. " Lafayette  took a deep breath.  " But _ qu _ _ ' _ _ elle  _ happened at Sienna …. Well, not right, does not even  start to  cover it.  Like I  told Mams , they brought their war to us . They  wanted the pair of ' n us beneath the dirt . Well, we are still alive , and when they find out , they will come for us again. I have  _ non _ __ intention of letting them strike first, ever again. "

"Fuck , right." Thaddeus snarled.


	88. Chapter EIGHTY-FIVE

Chapter Eighty

**Monday 15 th of October 1860**

A tattered carpet of leaves and hailstones big as eggs covered the ground about the eight men sitting their horses under the low hanging dripping tree limbs.

Untying his hair, Lafayette wrung it out, thinking, 'need to purchase a hat when we get to town.' Retying his hair into a tail, he asked, "you positive this is some of the men we want?"

Nathaniel Davis, the youngest son of Harrisonville's Baptist minister, leaned over, whispering, "I heard y'all was looking for those who murdered your family." He pointed to the camp, positioned in a hidden vale. "They were bragging behind the church, Sunday afore last. Pa had me at chores, and I could not follow 'em, but when I spied 'em again yesterday, I trailed 'em back here."

From Lafayette's left where he sat Cain, Thaddeus said, "appreciate _qu'elle_ you done." He leaned out, smiling at Nathaniel, "ain't _non_ need for you to stay, Nate."

Nathaniel sat in silent consideration.

Catching his eye, Brody Johnson softly said, "Nate, ain't none of'n us gonna think less of you for leavin'."

Shaking his head hard and fast, Nathaniel sat taller in his saddle. "No! What they all did to the Crowes." He licked his lips, peeking to Thaddeus, "to Dora, it was not right." Squaring his shoulders, Nathaniel firmly declared, "I am not leavin'."

The camp was coming to life, after the fast storm that had passed over, the men taking seats about a freshly smoldering fire. Sucking at his front teeth, Lafayette studied the movement, looking from the men to the ten horses along a tether line. "Nate, I ain't sayin' I do not believe you," Lafayette said. "Still, I need some factual verification afore settin' _mon_ self and the rest of y'all on the road to Hell."

Without a word, Thaddeus dropped from his saddle, disappearing into the trees, and when next they saw him, he was moving through the picketed horses. When half-way along, he stopped, his hand resting on a tall sorrel's back. He looked straight up the hill at his brother and nodded.

Releasing a holler that bordered on a scream, Lafayette kicked Coffee, and the big bay lunged down the sheltered embankment, with the other seven horses spilling after him.

Men fumbled for rifles, some drawing revolvers, except they were a minute past the action with bullets already burying into their flesh. Shrieks of pain filled the vale, the mud and hailstones hampering the men's escape, and in the bedlam, they bunched, slamming into each other like wild cattle.

Suddenly, a pair broke free, running hard for the horses.

Stepping out, his anger flowing from him like rainwater, Thaddeus casually asked, "headin' somewheres?"

The lead, a lean youth with a pock-marked face, slid in the mud, and in that breath of time it took to get his footing, he called out, "Tad Crowe!" Throwing his hands out to shield himself, he cried, "I was not there. I was not!"

The grin that appeared on Thaddeus' face resembled fangs behind his tight, pale lips. First, he shot the second man, who was further away. Then centered his Remington on the one who had called out, "should of chosen a better fuckin' crowd to run with, Billy," and squeezing the trigger, he sent a bullet right into the youth's throat.

Leaping Coffee across the logs surrounding the firepit, Lafayette sighted a man bringing a rifle to bear on Jackson Ericksen. Before he had his aim, Fox Northrup knocked him flying with Ebby's wide chest.

It was all over before it really began.

Dismounting amidst the carnage, Lafayette thought, 'I should be disgusted. Instead, I feel exhilarated. Feel alive.' Striding to the man, Fox had walloped with his horse, Lafayette retrieved the rifle, and straightening, barked. "Brody, Nate, Jackson, sweep the area for any we missed."

Wiping mud from the rifle, Lafayette felt his skin prickle, coldness crawling up his arms, and with a snarl, he slammed the rifle stock in the man's chest, ordering, "haul 'em up!"

The Massey cousins, Clyde and JT responded instantly, lifting the man to his feet.

He was unshaven and wore a finely cut wool jacket. As he clutched his left side, his close together narrow eyes glared about him defiantly.

Holding the rifle loosely in his right hand, Lafayette stepped forward with a smile. However, it was not a smile that brought forth any friendliness. _"Qu'elle…_ what is your _nom?_ "

Answering with a calmness that belied the anger in his eyes, the man said, "they call me Buck, and you are goin' to regret this _boy._ "

"In many ways, you are not wrong, but first let _moi_ introduce _mon_ self," Lafayette replied. Raising the Colt Revolving Rifle, he tapped each of his initials burned in the stock as he spoke. "I am Lafayette Henri Begnoir Crowe." He then slammed the stock in Buck's face, splitting the skin across his cheekbone while shattering his nose.

Buck hit the ground, pushing himself up, he turned to run and bounced off Fox. Backing from him, he spun, and Thaddeus slugged him. His defiance slipping, Buck's eyes scrolled across the group circled about him, realizing none of them were more than boys. "What the hell do you want?"

"To know how many of you fuckin' _bâtards_ invaded our home?" Thaddeus answered, kicking him in the knee, creating an audible snap, and Buck crashed to the ground, squealing like a cut pig.

Stepping in before Thaddeus as he drew back to kick again, Lafayette said, "It would be best if'n you just said how many?"

"All right... all right...." Buck groaned, gripping his leg. "Which was yours, the square yellow or the brick with the white columns?"

Squatting, Lafayette raised the Colt Rifle, pointing to his initials, "are you so dense, you require a second reminder?'

"NO!" Buck yelped. "I know where you mean."

"Then how many?" Lafayette asked.

Biting his lower lip, Buck shook his head, and Lafayette gestured to Thaddeus.

With a ferocious grin, Thaddeus dug the heel of his boot into Buck's knee.

A shriek rolled from him, and he shouted, "Christ a-mighty! Twenty-five! Twenty-five!"

Nodding, Lafayette asked, "how many of that twenty-five are here?"

Moaning and clutching his leg, Buck tried to peer around Lafayette, who was filling his vision.

"Seems you need your memory jarred," Lafayette dryly said, motioning to Thaddeus, who applied weight to Buck's broken knee.

This time a scream echoed off into the forest.

Thaddeus applied more weight.

"For Christ Sake, all of'n us...all of'n US! Please, by God, let off!"

" _Bonne,_ very _bonne._ Now, _m' frère cadet_ and I would like to know.... why?"

Buck's watering eyes darted from the brothers to those standing near, and stupefied, he asked, "why?"

Raising his foot high, Thaddeus aimed the heel of his boot over Buck's uninjured knee.

"No... no... no." Buck yowled, "I do not understand what it is you want."

"We want to know why you came to our home?"

This time Buck stared at the brothers and shaking his head, he said, "if'n you are toying with me, before killing me, just get it the fuck over with."

As matter factly as ordering a beer, Lafayette replied, "oh, I fully plan on killin' you. I am merely leavin' it up to you."

Buck's head twisted to the side, his eyes filling with confusion.

"I am allowin' you to decide, if 'n I shoot you clean or leave you to dangle and strangle."

At this, Clyde Massey removed his hat, taking a step back.

Lafayette's black eyes darted to him. "You got a problem, Clyde?"

He shook his head.

In a tone that brooked no arguments, Lafayette ordered, "then go assist the others in findin' out how many of these _bâtards_ are still breathin'."

Slapping his hat back on, Clyde nodded sharp, snapping off, "yes, Captain."

Thaddeus' green eyes followed Clyde as he hurried away, wondering, 'is that how Gabe became a Captain?' His gaze returned to his brother; whose expression was so cold-blooded he almost did not recognize him.

His attention once more on his captive, Lafayette mildly asked, "so, _m'_ question was... why?"

Buck appeared honestly bewildered as he looked anywhere else to avoid the ice-cold glare Lafayette was laying on him.

Realizing this was going nowhere, Thaddeus squatted. " _Qu'elle_ we want to know is _why_ did you attack our home? Why did you _murder our sister_? And who were you fuckin' ridin' with?"

"I ain't got answers for all that."

A blackness swept through Lafayette, and snatching hold of Buck's right hand, he snapped his trigger finger clean in two.

Buck squalled, his eyes rolling like a trapped animal, "I was following the others..." he babbled, "…just following 'em."

"Following who?" Lafayette asked.

"Me and my pal, Roger, was just following."

In a flash, it came to Lafayette, 'damn worthless the worthless _bâtard_ has _non_ more reason then lamely followin' others. Follow 'em as they loot and murder innocents.' His nose wrinkling tight, he unfolded to his full height. With one more disgusted look at Buck, he turned his back on the man, quietly commanding, "Fox, JT string 'em up."

"Yes, Capt','" Fox replied as if he had been calling Lafayette this for years.

Standing, Lafayette exhaled hard, "any others alive?"

"Just two," Jackson replied.

"Suppose that says something for y'alls accuracy," Lafayette answered with a bland smile.

As Jackson led him to the others, they could hear Buck's gargled pleas.

Lafayette glanced back as Buck was raised in the air, and despite the barbarity of all he had just done, he felt not a single drop of regret.

Jackson, though walked faster, trying to outdistance the chilling sound of Buck's death throes.

Catching hold of Jackson's shoulder, Lafayette spun him to see his life-long pal was grayish and appeared to be having a hard time breathing. "If'n this bothers you, _Ami._ Perhaps you should call to mind these dogs gutshot Dora. _You_ of'n all of us know the painful death she suffered. Then think on Gabe, Peter, and Web shot to pieces and of _m'_ Father dying..." he pointed to Buck spinning in the air, "... the same way that worthless waste of meat is dying. If'n that does not settle this all in your mind, then I suggest you ride on out."

Jackson closed his smoky blue eyes, clearly seeing the laughing faces of Sienna, those he considered family, and the warm love he had felt there. When he opened his eyes, he no longer looked lost. He gripped Lafayette's hand, where it still held his shoulder. "I am with you, Bub. Through blood and hell, I am with you."

The two remaining men were set against a pair of thick Elm trees with Brody standing over them. The one on the left had been shoulder shot. The other looked to be about the same age as Thaddeus and his pals, was deathly pale, and clutched his pelvic bone with blood streaming freely between his fingers.

Assessing the pair, Lafayette pulled his LeMat, and without hesitation, shot the younger in the head.

The other, a red-faced man with a yellowing mustache, still muscular but beginning to bend with age, jumped, yelping, "Gawd-damn!" His eyes flitting from the dead boy to Lafayette.

"Old-timer now would be a prime moment for you to consider how you wish to meet your Maker," Lafayette said. With his LeMat, he pointed to Buck still kicking on the strangle knot, and then to the dead boy.

The corner of the old man's mouth sneered up, "why if'n ya ain't all piss and vinegar, Boy?"

Lafayette released a short barking laugh, his dimples appearing as if by magic when his large smile split open. Shaking his head, he squatted before the captive.

His blatant sadistic merriment made the man lean back into the unyielding tree.

"When y'all murdered _m' famille_..." Lafayette tapped the man's chest with his LeMat, "I would like to know who led you onto our property and _who_ y'all rode with?"

The older man frowned, his eyes staring into Lafayette's young, handsome face.

Balling his hand in a fist, Lafayette placed it over the shoulder wound and leaned in.

The man bucked, and with a grunted growl, he latched hold of Lafayette's forearm. There was the ominous clicks of revolver's cocking, and the old man squinted to those who had created a half-circle behind the boy tormenting him. "Let off, Sonny. Hell, I ain't ignorin' ya. Just do not know how ya think I would know which place ya is speakin' of."

Rolling back on his heels, Lafayette rested his elbows on his knees, " _Jésus a pleuré_ , you have vandalized that many homesteads?"

"More than ya would surmise, Sonny."

Lafayette's right hand darted up, flicking some of his escaped hair from his face, leaving a streak of blood on his forehead. "I deem Lucifer is goin' cry when I put you down."

The man released a coughing laugh, "suppose he will."

Pursing his lips tightly, Lafayette exhaled, stringing out his words with deliberate clarity. "Cass County. Harrisonville. Sienna. Antonio Crowe."

"Ah, t'weren't as many horses there as we were told." A congenial smile came to the old man's face as his eyes searched those around him. "Humph. Some of ya must be Crowes. We sure thought we got all of ya."

Lafayette's left dimple pitted his face.

At his anger, the man chuckled, "good for ya, Sonny. A man's son oughta seek out his vengeance."

"Who did you ride with?"

"Been alive, before ya was even an itch in ya Pa's pants," the old man sneered, his eyes once more taking in the others, and he chuckled. "Hell, before any of y'all leaked out. So, I will tell ya now, do not matter what you do; I ain't givin' up any of my pals to you babes."

Lafayette's nostril's flared, "then _qu'elle…_ what 'bout them who led you there?"

"Did not care much for either of 'em. Damn uppity they were." He grinned and shook his head, "one was a little sumabitch from the Home Guard, and the other was an arrogant Mick." He chuckled, "still ain't givin' you the pleasure of their names."

Admiring the old man's grit, Lafayette stood, leveled the LeMat, and shot him between the eyes.

Having searched the camp for firearms, per Lafayette's orders, Thaddeus came walking up to Clyde, calling, "hey, Massey." When Clyde turned, Thaddeus held out the lead line of the tall, sorrel he had stopped by earlier, "like you to have her."

Licking his lower lip, Clyde took in the sorrel's solid bone structure and the intelligent look she held him with, and when he at last spoke, he sounded strange. "Are you sure?"

"Your gelding is a _bonne garçon_ ," Thaddeus responded. "But how old is Buddy gettin' to be?"

"Buddy's..." Clyde's eyes slanted to the picket line where his splashy paint stood. "He is nearly twenty, had 'em most of my life."

"You and he sure been down a lot of damn roads, ain't you?"

Clyde nodded.

"Well, if'n you plan on ridin' this road with Lafe and _moi._ " Thaddeus rolled the lead line in his hand, "I reckoned you might like to give Buddy a rest." His eyes turned to the Paint; "it would be an injustice to run 'em to fuckin' death. Maia here is only five."

Clyde again looked over the mare, admiring her broad chest and muscled hip. "You and Lafayette ain't got much left of your herd."

"Ah, Hell, we got plenty down South." Thaddeus pushed the rope at Clyde. "Sides, _qu'elle_ are we fuckin' to do, ride _duex_ damn _chevals_ at once?"

Taking the rope, Clyde smiled, shaking his head. "She sure is a beauty. What is her name again?"

"Maia Danseur. She is from our pacer line and damn, sure-footed, I held her back for breeding _m'_ Missouri Climber line." Thaddeus eyes strayed to the land beyond where they stood, 'bout the only _unes_ I left at Sienna were for that _raison_."

"If'n you are both sure?" Clyde asked, speaking to Lafayette, who was walking up.

"When it comes to the _chevals, qu'elle_ Taddy says goes," Lafayette replied. "Nate and I checked the brands on the rest. All but _une_ of 'em should be at various homes 'bout the County."

"What we goin' to do with 'em?" Clyde asked, stroking Maia's neck.

Lafayette answered, "we will take 'em to Harrisonville for Sherriff Hart to sort out."

Nodding to the dead, Clyde asked, "and, them?"

Thaddeus sharply answered, "leave the fuckers to fuckin' rot. It is _qu'elle_ they fuckin' deserve."

Hearing the vulgarity of Thaddeus' hostility, Lafayette thought, 'am I doin' right by _m' petit frère_ by takin' us on this hunt?' Exhaling softly, he turned away, patting his pockets in search of a smoke.


	89. Chapter Eighty-Six -final Chapter of Book ONE

Chapter Eighty-Six

"Get up," JT whistled at the pair of horses he led.

Along Harrisonville boardwalks, people kept pace with the eight men riding down Wall Street in the misting rain. Their low-tugged hat brims and raised collars made who they might be gossip-worthy enough, but the horses they led drew citizens to conjecture what their intentions might be in town.

A wide-shouldered blonde man sporting a well-waxed, handlebar mustache and a bowler stepped into the street. His eyes narrowed at the men, and then a smile erupted. Walking out, he called, "Hey, Lafayette."

" _Bonjour_ ," Lafayette acknowledged, reining Coffee in.

Laying a hand on Coffee's shoulder, Jimmy Gamble smiled up at his rider. "My goodness, Bucko, be good to be seeing ya. Did not realize..." He threw a quick look at Thaddeus, burrowed down in his oil-skin duster, "...y'all be back. Nope, did not realize it at all." Taking Lafayette's hand, Jimmy sandwiched it between his own large hands. "My deepest sympathies to ya," looking somberly to Thaddeus, he raised his voice, "to both y'all. Word be spread all over 'bouts, Sienna." Jimmy's bright, blue eyes blinked at the drizzle falling in his face as he tried to decipher Lafayette's taunt expression.

Disengaging his hand while looking askance at the good-sized, growing crowd, Lafayette muttered, " _merci._ " The muscles along his back twitched as he could hear their family name being murmured.

Also, hearing it, Jimmy shot a stern look toward those staring and whispering. "Sure, ain't being very neighborly." Shuffling his feet, he rubbed Coffee's neck, "as I said, my sympathies. Anything I be doing for y'all. Ya, be letting me know."

Lafayette nodded.

Stepping back, Jimmy addressed the others with Lafayette, "Gid, Common, and some others be over at the Dipper. Hope to be for seeing y'all there later."

Brody Johnson replied, "ya can be sure of it, Jimmy."

Jimmy nodded, taking another step back, watching the horses trail by until they disappeared around the corner.

"Hey, Lafe, why you suppose they are all fuckin' mutterin' and starin' at us? Not like we are fuckin' strangers to 'em."

Cricking his neck side-to-side, popping it, Lafayette looked to the people still watching. "We make 'em feel unsettled, Taddy. They are figurin' if'n it could happen to us; it could happen to them."

Thaddeus fiddled with Cain's mane.

"Do not let 'em worry you," Lafayette said, reining Coffee in as they were in front of the Sherriff's office.

Coming out, Sherriff Hart, in an overly friendly tone, called, "Good Day, Gentlemen." Although in his right hand, he gripped a rifle, "what can I do for y'all?" Stepping to the hitching rail, he placed the rifle across it, his blue eyes crawling over the riders. He felt they looked familiar, except in their current state of being unshaved, trail dirty, and wrapped in winter clothing, he was having difficulty putting names to them. Then at the back of the group, he recognized Jackson Erickson and visibly relaxed. "Why, hello, Jackson. Have not been seein' you at Doctor Mathews' side, of late."

Remaining where he was, Jackson replied, "been busy."

Wiping the rain from his face, Lafayette flicked his long hair back.

The movement brought Sherriff Hart's eye to him, and the man did a double-take, "Lafayette Crowe!? Ain't you supposed to be in Louisiana or someplace?"

Lafayette's reply was a tight smile.

Relaxing his hold of the rifle, Sherriff Hart took another look at the line up before him. Knowing Jackson and Lafayette, he quickly placed the rest, including the youngest Crowe boy. Returning his attention to the elder, he asked. "when did y'all return?"

"Few weeks prior," Lafayette responded, motioning to the lead-lined horses. "We rounded up these strays. Thought to leave 'em with you, supposed their owners might appreciate having 'em returned."

Sheriff Hart's eyes ran over the nine animals noting they were good stock, and right off, recognized a few of their brands. "My deputy and I would be pleased to return 'em," he said, stepping out to taking the lead line Lafayette offered, hollering, "James!"

A lanky, blond youth, more legs than anything else, came from behind the Sherriff's office and froze, his eyes widening at the group out front.

"Take these animals 'round to the corral," Sherriff Hart barked, passing the horse he was holding to his deputy. "Lafayette, Tad about..." Hart squinted at the Crowes, "...well, I would like y'all to come on in and make an official statement."

" _Qu'elle_ is to be said?" Thaddeus asked. "We found 'em, and we are fuckin' givin' 'em to you to sort out."

Sheriff Hart's eyes narrowed shrewdly, and shifting his gaze to Lafayette, he said, "I am not speakin' of the horses. I am speakin' of--"

" _Excusez-moi,_ Sherriff," Lafayette interrupted Hart, "it ain't something either of'n us wishes to speak on."

Hart stared a moment at Thaddeus with his heavily furrowed brow, saying, "I see." He rubbed a hand down the front of his brown coat. "That might be. However, I still need to know…" he fiddled with a button. "Well, I need to know who all..." his words faded when he looked up, locking eyes with Lafayette, which were black, tight, and glinting with anger.

" _Vous_ need to know _qu'elle_?" Lafayette challenged; his voice so low it barely carried the short distance to the Sherriff.

"Is it only you and Tad, here in Cass?"

Lafayette snapped, "why?!"

"As a lawman, it is good to know who all's in your county to watch over, especially these days."

"I see," Lafayette said, leaning forward on the shoulder of his saddle, bringing him closer to the Sherriff. "Then you can jot on your ledger, the only Crowes alive in Cass County is Taddy and _moi_."

"Boys, you do have my sympathies. But, uhm...?" The Sherriff swallowed, his Adam's apple distinctly bobbing.

Sarcasm filling Lafayette's voice, he sneered, "oh, I see. _Qu'elle vous vraiment_ wish to know is, who all we placed in our graveyard."

Sherriff Hart nodded.

Lafayette's nostrils flared, knowing what he said next would be all over town before sunset. "All _m' famille,_ except our Father, Gabe, Webster, Peter, and Dora are in _Louisiane_."

"Dora?! Oh, boys," remorseful compassion filled Sherriff Hart's face. "I had thought it must be Antonio and Gabriel since I ain't heard from 'em. But Lordie boys, gentle lil' Dora, you have my genuine sympathies."

" _Merci,_ " Lafayette said, sitting up straight. "Is there anything else?"

"When will y'all be headin' South to join up with the rest of y'alls clan?"

Thaddeus snapped, "we ain't got _non_ fuckin' plans to fuckin' leave."

Hart's gaze shifted over to Thaddeus, and what he read in his face did not sit well with him. "Now, Boys, I do not want to hear of you doin' anything unlawful. It would be best if'n you caught a boat south to Louisiana. Besides, I have already been investigatin' into this."

Lafayette scoffed, " _qu'elle_ is there to investigate? It was Jayhawkin' border scum partnered up with Missouri yellow-belly rabble who committed the deed."

"That may be, Lafayette," Sherriff Hart responded. "Even so, it is a matter for the law."

Backing his horse, Lafayette coolly, almost politely replied, "I deem the law ain't up to it. So do not bother yourself further. We have already begun our _own_ investigation."

"Lafayette, I am askin' you..."

Lafayette turned his horse away from Hart.

"Boys, I am telling all y'all, do not be oversteppin' the law."

Lafayette looked back, speaking low, his rage barely covered by his even tone as he said, _"Non_ disrespect, Sherriff Hart. But be honest with yourself, there ain't been much judicial law in Missouri for far too long. So, tell _moi qu'elle_ there is for any of'n us to overstep?"

As they rode off, a few caustic chuckles rolled back to Sheriff Hart.

Rushing into the street, he shouted, "Crowes, Masseys, Brody, Fox…" None of them looked back, "Dadgum it, Nate... Jackson... I know y'all, and y'all need to listen to me!"

Jackson turned Nero to face Hart, his gentle features set in an expression of apologetic regret. Then, kicking Nero, he spun back around, passing the others until he rode alongside Lafayette.

When they rode up to the Little Dipper, there was a fair-sized crowd on the front porch, and before they even touched ground, a handful of men were walking their way.

Rance McGreen, shoved his hands in his coat pockets, drawling, "by Jove, what are y'all doin' here?"

Having just dismounted, Lafayette turned about, asking, " _qu'elle?_ "

Rance shifted his eyes to Orville Riggs, who answered, "I only understand when I been around 'em regular."

Sighing, Lafayette asked again, "What?"

"After the boats pulled out of Independence. Your father told us he was thankful," Rance's gaze shifted to Thaddeus, "y'all would be remainin' with the herd at your family's plantation." Turning back to Lafayette, he went on, "and that you would ensure it happened considerin' why you were sent down. Now with Sienna gone, as I said, why are y'all here."

Lafayette's brow furrowed.

Stepping in front of Lafayette, Brody pushed right up against Rance and Orville, "ain't y'all got anything better to do? Thunderation, swear y'all ain't got the sense God gave a gopher."

Lafayette laid a hand on Brody's stiff shoulder, "it is all right." He raised sharp eyes to Rance, "despite _qu'elle_ our father said, Taddy and I had unfinished business here at home." The corner of his mouth quirked, "we arrived the day of the fire. Only we were too late to . . .. we were just too late."

Rance shifted his eyes away.

Rubbing a hand across his mouth, Orville asked, "you two want a drink?"

"More than fuckin' _une_ ," Thaddeus shot back, striding for the saloon.

Following in his wake, Lafayette noticed how the crowd on the Dipper's porch parted. Even pulling back as they came up the stairs, all of them pretending they had not been staring. 

When they stepped inside, Jackson moved in close to Lafayette, whispering, "you alright, Bub?"

"They all are lookin' at _moi_ like I am too low to stand beside 'em. Like they believe, if'n I had not run off... I would have been there to defend Sienna."

"I would say, that is more your own personal view, Bub, not…" Jackson gestured to the men gathering about Thaddeus, "theirs."

Lafayette's nose wrinkled, and he turned, fixing to dress Jackson down.

Except Jackson jumped in first, "you are tearin' yourself up. If'n you do not start givin' yourself a little slack, you are goin' to crack."

"Is that your professional opinion, Doc?"

"Maybe? But more, it is me knowing you, Bub." He again pointed to Thaddeus, "if'n you do crack, what will become of him?"

Watching his younger brother, Lafayette felt a swelling protectiveness of the likes he could not recollect ever feeling before.

"None of us, who matter, have ever considered you faint-of-heart," Jackson said, dropping an arm about Lafayette's shoulders, steering him toward the bar. "There are more here on your side than you have taken stock of."

Leaning his forearms on the bar top, Lafayette shrugged.

"You need to settle this in you. Because I am positive that you, Taddy, and me…hell, all of'n us have only just stepped into this fire. Before we are through, it will get damn hot and heavy. So, I, for one…" He poked Lafayette in the shoulder, "would like _you_ on top of your game."

Looking over, Lafayette smiled weakly, "I _jamais_ planned for you to take this road with _moi_. _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ , with the War fixin' to bust loose, you should be finishin' up your studies for becomin' a doctor. Your fixin' to be in high demand."

"Most likely, so," Jackson responded, releasing a pent-up sigh. "But, Bub, your family, well, they made me one of y'all. That they did, and there is no place, none, I would be other than by your side to track down their killers."

Lafayette knew Jackson, as well as he knew himself, and knew his mind was set. "It might get worse than yesterday."

"Most likely, it will."

Glancing at the mixture of men filling the Dipper, Lafayette said, "I did not get enough information as to where to turn; maybe they will have some."

Before more could be said, Reed Chaplin rushed across the room, grabbing Lafayette in a hug that lifted his boots from the floor. "Sakes alive, I am relieved to see you and Tad."

" _Bonjour_ Reed," Lafayette replied, feeling somewhat embarrassed by the handling.

Releasing him, Reed kept a hand on Lafayette's shoulders, "my deepest condolences regarding your family. All you Crowes are fine people, and those who have gone on to be with our Lord will be sorely missed."

Bowing his head, Lafayette replied, " _merci beaucoup_." But that part of his mind that seemed to now always burn with anger thought, 'how many more times can I thank those consoling _moi._ I have done is so much of late, it has started feeling like I am thanking 'em for noticing _m' familles_ been murdered.'

Frowning at Lafayette's flat, emotionless expression. Reed slapped him on the back, "let me get you a drink." Placing a hand on the bar top, he sprung across its broad surface. "What can I get you?"

"Heron's," Lafayette answered.

"Oh, yes, the good bourbon," Reed said, already sorting through bottles along the back wall of the bar. Finding the half-empty bottle, he waggled it proudly. "None ask for this pricey fermentation but you. I should have recalled that." Pouring three fingers in a glass, Reed flicked an eye to Jackson, "the usual?"

Jackson nodded.

Corking the bottle, Reed passed the glass to Lafayette and fetched a cup of hot coffee for Jackson. When he returned, he shoved Lafayette's coin, laying on the bar, back at him. "Your money is no good today."

"I can pay _m'_ way."

Leaning on the bar, Reed looked straight into Lafayette's face with his gray-green eyes. "I said your money is no good _today._ "

Lafayette arched an eyebrow.

"Hey…" Reed exploded into a smile, "what good is being the son of a saloon owner if'n you cannot give a bit a cheer away here and again?"

Jackson chuckled, "not sure your father would agree with that philosophy."

Hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his bright green vest, Reed graced his friends with a toothy smile. "Do you see Mister Chaplin 'bout here?"

Lafayette could not help but smile back, and tipping his glass toward Reed, said, " _santé_!"

Shooting the liquor down, he licked the residue from his lower lip, enjoying the bourbon's warm, succulent taste as it slid down his throat. Then turning, he hitched his elbows on the bar, his gaze roaming over the full room.

"You figuring on joinin' a fightin' band?" Reed pried, refilling Lafayette's glass.

Lafayette eyed the glass and then Reed.

"Well, are you?"  
"Ain't decided."

"Oh," Reed replied, pouring himself a drink of Herons, and tipping the open bottle toward Jackson's half-empty cup, but Jackson shook his head.

Hearing a match strike, Lafayette held out his empty hand, without looking, to Jackson. "Can I get _une_?"

"Do you _never_ have smokes of your own?"

Lafayette turned a rueful grin on his pal, "enjoy 'em too much. They _jamais_ last long."

"Swear, I am going to charge an entire case to your account over at Kent's."

"Go ahead. Can I have _une_ or not?"

Clamping his smoke between his teeth, Jackson withdrew another from his case and handed it over. "Need me to light it for you also?"

"Nah, I am quite _bonne_ at that part," Lafayette responded, snagging a match from the cup on the bar and striking it; he bent into the flame, puffing the small brown cigar to life. When he raised his head, a square-built, bearded man was standing before him.

The man smiled, his mustache folding into the creases of his face, "sounds like y'all been busy."

Lafayette exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"That green-eyed one over there says y'all are searchin' out some men you would like to show the rough end of the stick."

Lafayette's left eye squinched, and instead of responding, he removed a loose piece of tobacco from his lip.

Taking off his hat, the man ran a hand across his nearly bald head. "They say you are Lafayette Crowe and their leader." Replacing his hat, he extended his hand, "I am Cy Gordon, and bunch 'em over there a part of my Partisan Ranger unit."

Clamping the cigar between his teeth, Lafayette, at last, extended his hand, "nice to meet you, _Monsieur_ Gordon."

Gordon hitched out a bit of a grin, "Just Cy, and is it true, y'all are on the search?"

"We are."

"Got any leads?"

"Not as many as I would wish."

"I might be able to point you in the correct direction."

For a long moment, Lafayette used the same skills he had honed about a poker table on Gordon before speaking. "A Lieutenant Matthew O'Rourke out of Lawrence, most likely a Red Leg; and Major Samuel Birmingham of the Home Guard, along with the others present to murder _m' famille_."

"Birmingham is tight with Command in Kansas City." Cy took a drink of the beer he was holding. "He is a big ol' fish to hook and poke at."

Taking a drag on his cigarillo, Lafayette replied, "the big _unes_ can be the most entertainin'."

"You done figured out where you are goin' fishin'?"

"Not as of yet."

"Well, then," Cy took another drink, "takin' my Unit back out. Damn, Border is being hit harder than a half-price whore. Folks are movin' east out of Bates and Vernon so fast they look like a nest of migrating ants."

"That so?" Lafayette asked, the muscles flexing along his jaw, causing his left dimple to furrow a line in his face.

"Mmm-hmm," Gordon grunted, taking another swig. "So, if'n you and your boys want to assist us in defendin' the Border, I would welcome the ride along."

Lafayette's eyes strayed to find Thaddeus watching the conversation. He quirked a brow at him, and Thaddeus nodded affirmatively. Flicking his eyes back to Gordon, Lafayette said, "why the hell not? Might be able to fill in some of the damn unanswered blanks while we are out there."

"We are fixin' to ride out in an hour."

"We will be with you. Although, I need to stop in at Kent's Mercantile to stock up first," Lafayette replied.

"Sounds good," Cy Gordon set down the mug, offering his hand to Lafayette to seal the deal.

Taking it, Lafayette looked the older man in the eyes. " _Une_ point, I want you to savvy, I oversee those who ride with _moi._ I will not have 'em used for fodder by anyone."

Gordon froze. It was not the strength of the boy's handshake or, even his words, that snagged his attention. It was the conviction in Lafayette's eyes, and he thought, 'consider myself a tough character. Give this one a year, maybe less, and he will be damn formidable.' Releasing Lafayette's hand, he answered, " glad to have y'all with us, and I will not be forgettin' that your men are yours."

" _M_ _erci beaucoup,_ for the invite Cy!" Swallowing the rest of his whiskey, Lafayette moved to the Little Dipper's front, releasing a one-note piercing whistle.

Every man jack in the room turned to him.

Dropping his shoulder to the doorframe, Lafayette crossed one boot over the other. "I have accepted Cy Gordon's invitation to the Border _soiree,_ only I have a solid agenda of _m'_ own. Thusly, I am buildin' _m'_ own Ranger Unit. With it, I damn-well plan on makin' our _nom_ stand out to those _putain_ Red Legs and turncoat Home Guard." He firmly returned the stares of those watching him, "if'n you would like to be in _m'_ unit then drag yourselves on outside."

A little less than an hour later, Lafayette Crowe sat atop Coffee surrounded by Thaddeus, Jackson, Brody, J.T. and Clyde, Fox, Reed Chaplin, Jimmy Gamble, Orville Riggs, Rance McGreen, Zebidiah Cole, Gideon Barnett, Common Smith, Jonathon Workman, Lee Ball, Charlie Hamel, Jeremiah Burke, Nathaniel Davis, and Valentine McCane. A few of them had been members of Gabriel's Cass Cavaliers. They joined, prepared to see if his younger brother was worthy of their fealty; the rest were between Lafayette and Thaddeus' ages, each carrying a grievance they felt worthy to take them to war.

From beneath, the brim of his new black wide-brimmed hat, Lafayette, scanned the men, a line of Henry VI coming to him, ' _what fates impose, that men must needs abide._ ' He thought, 'how the world does twist a man's belief and faith.'

Even with all Lafayette believed in the past being stripped from him. He still felt proud; so many had chosen to follow him, which also meant Jackson was correct. He was not considered a coward. His eyes drifted to Valentine McCane, and he thought, 'unsure why he chose to be _une_ of mine, and even more unsure why I allowed 'em to be so.' A frown formed around the corners of Lafayette's mouth, 'hope he does not make _moi_ regret _m'_ decision."

Cy Gordon rode past with his men, and spinning Coffee in a circle, Lafayette smiled over at his brother. Raising an arm and dropping it, he hollered, "Crowe Rangers, let us ride."

_Their story will continue in the next book, Crowe Legacy: Into the Fire_


	90. Language List

**_F_ _rench_ _-Creole_ _Numbers_ **

_One: un_ _Two:_ _deux_ _Th_ _ree: trois_ _Four:_ _quatre_ _Five_ _: cinq_

_Six:_ _six_ _Seven: sept_ _Eight:_ _huit_ _Nine_ _: neuf_ _Ten: dix_

**_French_ _-Creole_ _T_ _erms for Men & Women_ **

_mâle_ _–_ _male_ _femelle_ _–_ _female_

_hom_ _m_ _e – man_ _femme_ _–_ _woman_

_garçon – boy_ _fille_ _\--_ _girl_

_mari – hustand_ _femme_ _–_ _wife_

_père – father_ _mère_ _–_ _mother_

_fil – son_ _fille_ _–_ _daughter_

_frère – brother_ _sœur_ _–_ _sister_

_petit frère – little brother_ _petite_ _sœur_ _–_ _little sister_

_frère cadet -- younger brother_ _sœur_ _cadette – younger sister_

_grand frère_ _–_ _big_ _brother_ _grande_ _sœur_ _– big sister_

_grand frère_ _–_ _elder broth_ _er s_ _œur_ _ainée_ _– elder sister_

_oncle – uncle_ _tante_ _–_ _aunt_

_neveu_ _– nephew_ _nièce_ _–_ _niece_

_cous_ _in – cousin_ _cousine_ _–_ _cousin_

_grand- père_ _–_ _grandfather_ _grand-mère_ _– grandmother_

_petite fil – grandson_ _petite fille –_ _granddaughter_

_chéri – darling, endearment_ _chérie_ _– darling, endearment_

_Monsieur – gentleman, adult male_ _Madame – married lady_

_abbreviated such as_ _Mr. – M._ _abbreviated such as_ _Mrs. -- M_ _me._

_Mademoiselle – unmarried lady_

_abbreviated such as_ _M_ _iss:_ _M_ _lle._

_m_ _essieurs_ _– group of gentlemen_ _mesdemoiselles – group of ladies_

**Creole-French-Irish-Latin**

_à vrai dire_ _to tell you th_ _e truth_

_ami_ _friend_

_amour_ _love_

_arrivée_ _arrive_

_au contraire_ _on the contrary, opposite_

_au revoir_ _good bye_

_bienheureuse Marie_ _blessed Mary_

_bienvenue_ _welcome_

_bonne_ _good_

_bonne nuit_ _good night_

_beauté_ _beautiful_

_bébés_ _baby_

_belle_ _pretty_

_bleu_ _blue_

_blanc_ _white_

_bonjour_ _hello_

_café_ _coffee_

_cadet_ _younger, youngest_

_c’est_ _this is, that is, it is_

_chambre_ _bedroom_

_c_ _hien_ _dog_

_c_ _hère_ _dear_

_cheval_ _horse_

_considered_ deem, think 

_copains_ _friends, pals_

_dauphin_ _prince_

_deartháir_ _Irish…. brother_

_désolé_ _sorry_

_devoir_ _duty_

_D_ _ieu_ _G_ _od_

_diplomatique_ _diplomatic_

_doux_ _sweet_

_doux_ _M_ _ère_ _Ma_ _rie_ _sweet_ _M_ _other_ _M_ _ary_

_eejit_ _Irish…._ _idiot_

_enfant_ _infant_

_esclaves_ _slaves_

_étrange_ _strange_

_excusez_ _excuse_

_excusez-moi_ _excuse me_

_famille_ _family_

_faveur_ _favor_

_femme_ _wife_

_fleur_ _flower_

_François_ _F_ _rench_

_garçon_ _boy, young men_

_gracieux_ _gracious_

_garçonnière_ _bachelor flat, separate home_ _for the young men of the household_

_grace de Dieu_ _grace of God_

_grand_ _elder, big_

_honneur_ _honor_

_indépendant_ _independent_

_jamais_ _never_

_je m'en fiche_ _I do not care_

_jeune_ _young_

_je t'aime I_ _love you_

_joli_ _pretty_

_L_ _'eau_ _Su_ _crée_ _Sw_ _eet_ _W_ _ater_

_libre_ _free_

_liberté_ _freedom_

_Louisiane_ _Creole for L_ _ouisiana_

_L_ _ouisianais_ _Creole for L_ _ouisianans_

_máthair_ _Irish_ _mother_

_mal_ _bad_

_maison_ _home, house_

_maîtresse_ _mistress_

_maladie_ _illness_

_mariage_ _marriage_

_mêlée_ _fight_

_merci_ _thank you_

_merci beaucoup_ _thank you very much_

_merveilleux_ _wonderful_

_mes_ _apologies_ _my apologies_

_mes excuses_ _excuse me_

_I'm_ _me_

_mon or m’_ _my_

_naïve_ _little wisdom, knows little of the world_

_nom_ _name_

_nommé_ _named_

_nom de_ _Dieu_ _name of_ _G_ _od_

_non_ _no_

_nouveau_ _brand new_

_you_ _yes_

_par_ _by_

_par contre_ _on the other hand_

_pardonné_ _pardon_

_per contra_ _Latin_ _on_ _the_ _other hand_

_petite_ _young, small, tiny, little-used_ _regarding females_

_petit_ _young, small, tiny, little-used_ _regarding males_

_précieux_ _precious_

_promesse_ _promise_

_quand_ _when_

_qu’elle_ _what_

_quelle honte_ _what a shame, for shame_

_raison_ _reason_

 _remercier la sainte_ _vierge_ _thank you holy virgin_

_sainte mère_ _holy mother_

_see_ _herself, himself, themself_

_s’il_ _vous plaît_ _please_

_sine qua_ _non_ _Latin_ _an_ _essential condition,_ _a necessary thing_ _._

_sucré_ _sweet, sugary, candied_

_très very_

_très_ _desole_ _so very sorry_

_toujours_ _always_

_tu_ _me_ _manques_ _yo_ _u are_ _missing from_ _me,_ _you are_ _a part of_ _me_ _,_ _you are_ _crucial to me_

_tu me fatigues_ _you’re annoying me_

_V_ _ieux_ _Carré_ _old square,_ _Creole_ _for_ _F_ _rench_ _Q_ _uarter_

_visite_ _visit_

_visiteurs visitors_

_vœu_ _vow_

_vous_ _you_

_vraiment_ _really_ _and truly_

**_Creole-French Cursing_ **

_aller en enfer_ _go to hell_

_bâtard_ _bastard_

_bordel de merde_ _oh fuck/oh shit_

_chiant_ _translates to ‘that pisses me off’_

_crétin_ _mental and/or physical idiot_

_Christ sur un chariot_ _Christ on a cart_

_Christ sur une Croix_ _Christ on a cross_

_connerie_ _bullshit_

_dégage_ _piss off_

_dégénéré_ _worthless inbred_

_diable_ _devil_

_doux Jésus_ _sweet Jesus_

_ferme ta gueule_ _shut your fucking mouth_

_fils de pure_ _son of a bitch_

_feu de l'enfer_ _hellfire_

_imbécile_ _idiot, complete fool_

_je m’en fou_ _I do not care_

_je m'en fous_ _I do not fucking care_

_Jésus a pleuré_ _Jesus wept_

_malheureux_ _wretched, unlucky, ill-fated, miserable_

_merde_ _shit_

_par Dieu_ _by God_

_par_ _tous les_ _saints_ _by all the saints_

_pour_ _l'amour_ _de Dieu_ _for the love of God_

_putain_ _fuck_

_putain d'enfer_ _fucking hell_

_putain en_ _enter_ _fucking go to hell_

_qu’elle diable_ _what in the hell_

_ta_ _gueule_ _shut up_

_va te faire you're_ _fuck you_

_visser voter_ _screw you_

_zut_ _damn it_


End file.
